Every day is Titanic day for me. That’s close enough, though, Sloganmaker.
“DAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! NNAANABAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! (Look! Here it comes!)”
The guard shouted from his perch with enthusiasm. He slid himself over to the other side of the stone mausoleum roof and leaned against a crumbling angel figure chiseled on its corner. Ever since the sun left the sky to disappear behind the tombstones on the cemetery’s far side and the horizon beyond them the guard waited. His patient figure could have been mistaken for another stone angel, if only angels’ bodies consisted of decomposed flesh, still hearts, a lack of wings, and cravings for a live food source.
Yet in a way the zombie’s duties mimed those of the once stately angel beside him. Had he not stalked these sacred cemetery grounds under the orders of his just and respected king? His legs still held intact making it possible for him to patrol through the graves. Fortunately enough teeth still clung inside his mouth to devour any other beings invading this territory to disturb the dead. While those existing in the old world sealed his remains inside a wooden box and quarreled over his precious estate the King granted him an alternative existence to merely collecting dust six feet below the growing and unkept grass he now gazed downwards upon this very moment.
The guard heard another exclamation followed by another moan of triumph. He focused his attention down the hill to its bottom and approximately twelve gravestones to the right of the old cobblestone path. Between two tombstones, an old wooden cross and a large marble block, another zombie staggered towards him. With the zombie’s one functioning arm that was not rotting off at the elbow it dragged a large, limp meal. Lying on top of the feast balanced a filthy shovel with its wooden handle lathered in soil and dried blood. Clumps of grass and dirt stuck to the gradually rusting metal giving off a similar color to the ever in style dried-blood-and-dirt shade.
The observing guard muttered “Eeehoooo maaaaaaa…(Funny people! It’s been years and that color is still in style…)” The approaching zombie staggered from the burden of his load and lack of limb to move it. At once the guard swung his body over the mausoleum edge, released his grip from the angel statue’s chipped wing, and descended to the ground. He hurried down the hill at the fastest speed possible for his brittle legs to help.
The guard grasped the teetering shovel and lifted it off of the corpse’s chest. The two zombies gave a short nod and smile to each other.
“Aaah (Mission accomplished).”
Together the zombie pair dragged their treasured cargo up the hillside. While they did not feel pain or fatigue as they once did during their past lives, both still retained the ability to enjoy a fine feast. The sooner they reached the Dark Crypt at the hill’s peak, the sooner everyone could enjoy this meal. Both zombies’ eyes fixated up the hill to the point of horizon between two large pine trees.
Their distance to the destination could be measured by the amount of pine needles lying among the blades of grass. The ancient pines, now drooping and shedding needles, was dying. Soon the trees’ life would end and transition into the world of the deceased, joining the other residents of the graveyard. Even if trees such as the pines could retain memories neither could remember many joyous moments. Two tiny seeds placed into the ground countless years ago remained in their places ever since and grew into the respected examples of foliage now marking either side of a ornately decorated stone structure.
When the zombies’ worn shoes -or feet if an area of their shoe rotted away- pressed against a thick layer of pine needles they could gaze upon the structure. Before them stood a rectangular facade with a mound of dirt rising to meet its edges on the other three sides. The Dark Crypt’s entrance was built into the mound, giving the architecture a serene and earthy depiction. The lowest branches of the trees rested on the ground and the ones brushing against the mound began to bend slightly upwards. It was if the trees attempted to exclaim the structure’s presence by pointing towards a grand entrance.
On their walk along the hilltop the zombies passed the ultimate cemetery landmark. Although the marble mausoleum was not remarkably large, especially compared to the crypt, it splendidly provided the King and the Princess with a dignified place to rest. The mausoleum, designed for family’s private use, could easily hold around eight bodies within its walls. While most of the exquisite designs suffered a few chips and weathering from the elements over time the six columns still proudly accented the mausoleum entrance. The inscribed name had long since been covered in strands of ivy spilling over from the roof. A few devious strands of ivy trailed downward along the columns. Two mythical unicorn statues stood on their marble pedestals. A set of eight steps spread between the statues led from the ground to a pair of iron gates. Two thick wooden doors lay shut beyond the iron gates. Carvings of ivy not too different than the live plant growing above it bordered the marble above the door and along the tops of the columns. On the marble from the columns to the roof a modestly sized, octagon shaped window provided a final touch of adornment. The King’s grand mausoleum shielded him and the Princess well from the natural elements endured by those buried in the earth. The ultimate benefit was protection from grave robbers. While countless desecrators prowled the grounds none gave a serious attempt to penetrate the mausoleum’s doors.
The zombies grinned while dragging the body past the mausoleum. This was the only instant in which the unfortunate person would ever pass the elusive tomb. Grave robbers posed the greatest threat to the zombies’ existence. They frequently arrived at the cemetery gates during the night to steal away recently buried corpses. For many their final rest ceased upon the sinister visitors’ shovels striking their coffin lids. With a few pries of the nails the robbers snatched their prize, messily tossed the coffin fragments and uprooted dirt back into the open grave, and bolted back down the cobblestone and out of the cemetery. The remaining zombies never discovered another trace of their companions ever since the disappearances.
To combat this abhorrence a zombie resting in the mausoleum stepped forward. He organized a group consisting of the zombies roaming the cemetery. Most were uprooted when grave robbers dug up their graves, damaged their coffins beyond use, and left them in the cemetery upon realizing they decayed past the level of usefulness they desired. These zombies awaited the next midnight encounter and overpowered any live humans who walked the cemetery grounds. Time passed and eventually the amount of robberies declined. Finally, because of the King’s plan of defense, the number of visitors dwindled until nobody stepped past the cemetery gates at all. With at least seventy percent of its plots filled already and most of the dead’s family finally deceased themselves and the location a lengthy trip from town, the living most likely started a new cemetery conveniently closer and with less eerie rumors connected to it. The King earned his place as beloved monarch of the graveyard, protector of all zombie subjects and archenemy of those wishing to desecrate the hallow grounds.
The lady slipped through the ornate iron cemetery gates. After looking down at the rust accumulated on her black gloves she daintily brushed the residue off against a stone pillar supporting the gate at its hinges. With grace the soles of her leather boots met the cobblestone path flooded with streams of rainwater rushing through the gaps in between the stones. The widow in mourning collected the skirt of her raven black dress and pursued on up the path. A bouquet of flowers bound together with a smooth black ribbon would soon collect enough water to drink. The lady grasped the flowers in her right hand along with that side of her skirt. Barely anybody from the road heard or even noticed her while she continued along towards a certain grave underneath a grand willow tree, elderly as she.
Solemnly the visiting mourner parted the willow tree’s branches and approached a simply decorated tombstone approximately the height of her knee. A chilly wind picked up and sent her skirts and black veil fluttering around her. She decided it was best to quickly complete her task and head for home. She took the flowers and laid them on the ground, aligned with the tombstone’s center. After giving a small nod of approval she turned from the grave, passed through the willow branches once more, and stepped onto the cobblestone path facing the opposite direction from which she came.
Naturally, since completing the purpose of her visit, the lady’s mind no longer lingered within the confines of the cemetery gates. Instead she conjured images of the warm soup with tea she hoped to enjoy upon barricading herself inside her home from the dismal outside weather. Unfortunately she should have paid at least a meager sum of attention to her current surroundings, no matter how dreary they felt to her. For if she chose to glance down, even for a mere second, she could have died on a far less dismal day and location.
This was not the case, however, and the black clad lady failed to notice the most gruesome arm protruding across the path before her approaching feet. Suddenly a boney arm with scraps of flesh, decaying tissue, and long beyond tattered shirt remnants clutched at the widow’s left ankle. This caused her to fall and strike the cold, dense cobblestone at a quite unforgiving rate.
“Oh!” she uttered for a split second and glanced down at the cause of her fatal stumble. Her eyes grew wide with terror as her frantic, feeble attempt to shake the arm free failed her.
From behind an old marble monument with its inscription long eroded away by the elements and surrounding growth of moss the arm emerged to reveal its connecting shoulder and chest. From above the stone rose a dirty, scar covered head with its eyes glazed over and rolling about. Twigs and earth were intertwined in the corpse’s knotted hair. It was the most ghoulish spectacle the lady saw, and would ever see, in her life. Swiftly the petrifying creature’s grimly jaws creaked open to reveal its stained teeth. At last, the black clad lady met her fate.
The second time winning second place for my second felt doll entry. Strange, huh? That’s what I discovered while roaming the indoor exhibit and craft buildings during the fair. Back in the archives of 2010 I mentioned my first, the felt doll version of Kill Hannah frontman and vocalist Mat Devine (link here -it will open in a new window or tab). Mat won me second place in the category.
This year I decided to try another doll entry. Out of the dozen or so additions to my collection I chose my latest, a tribute to keyboard player Erik X from the band Creature Feature. I thought it took an eternity to line the stripes on his shirt just right and accurate with the real-life costume. He is entirely made of felt except for a pair of shoes/boots/feet from scrap leather.
Does anyone see the resemblance?
I’ll be making more dolls when I replenish my felt supply.
It’s 8:23 in the morning in AP Language class. We’re on the Macs, reviewing the site for submitting papers online. Realizing there’s some time left, plus the fact that I haven’t touched any of my blogs for a couple months, I opened a new tab to WordPress and started this post. The summer passed with a blur but I distinctly remember the following events occurring in the midst of the fray.
A bizarre sense of accomplishment mixed with anticipation derives from the fact that I am now a high school senior this year. We started back to school on the last Tuesday of August. This year I have a study hall in the morning which I expected to grant me the divine capability to A.) Complete more work in school, thus avoiding the transport of assignments hone and furthering procrastination B.) Writing more from the source of my own imagination. Remarkably both options are possible. Not only do I have time to finish homework but I started work on a new stage play.
This next play involves…more zombies! I wrote the entire script in my head first one evening in the shower. No, really. In the shower. I conjured up the entire plot for the script so now I merely have to concentrate on typing it in Pages. It would be really nice if I finished the script by Halloween but that depends on school and the Fall Play schedule.
Since my only study hall is over soon, I’ll end this post right here.
Every day is Titanic day for me. That’s close enough, though, Sloganmaker.
Guess what I’m writing this post on? A Mac! A Macbook! Yes, an Apple laptop! To make a long story short, Digit Dell’s screen issue turned worse throughout the past few months. It continued to flicker off, resulting in me smacking it harder to keep it on again. The technician at Cyber Depot said a connection went bad and I walked out of the store with this Mac. My new Mac, named Magnet (don’t want to confuse it with my sister’s Mac, do we?) works much nicer. Compared to my previous laptops the battery lasts longer, it runs quicker, and is more convenient. Thus, I decided to update this blog.
Why does everything during my Junior year seem happen at ONCE? Already I cannot believe it’s April already. It was not too long ago when I trudged back to school in September whining “Why did county fair week have to end?!” Now the school year is practically over -and good riddance! Don’t misunderstand me -I had a phenomenal time this spring with my Student Theare family during our production of The Sting (yes, based off the movie). The show turned out well and I kept my position as one of the stage managers. Of course, track season follows and then prom. These activities are fun and do they ever pass the time! Only a few weeks remain of school before I’ll be…a senior. I am not going to even START that topic, so I’ll end this post right here for the time being.
I am still alive, working on creative projects, and not dead. :)
As a few of my readers noticed earlier this month, I started a new blog entitled ‘J.B. Stables’. My stable blog, home to all of my equine content, focuses on stories and events related to my horses and equestrienne life. Keeping all of my horse related content in its own realm of the Archives blog has been difficult for me lately. Since horses are the most important thing in my life, I certainly did not want to risk having my other writing compete with them for time and blog space. I’d guess approximately 70% of this blog is my writing -stage plays, illustrations or otherwise- and to me that’s disappointing! Because of this I decided to start another blog focused solely on horses, hence the creation of the new stable site!
For my friends who don’t care for horses but enjoy reading my other writing, do not panic! I will not delete the Archives or remove its public visibility status. Think of this as a split -all of my random creative ideas in the Archives, then my horse news on the stable blog. Then I’ll feel that instead of managing one blog toggling between two very different topics, I’ll have two blogs containing information organized pertaining to the topic. Hopefully everything will work out wonderfully! Here is the URL of the new blog. Please check it out and feel free to leave any feedback!
In about an hour I am leaving with French Club on our winter Quebec trip. Expect beautiful snowy photos when I return!
Now this could be the last of all the rides we take,
So hold on tight and don’t look back.
-My Chemical Romance “The Kids From Yesterday”
…but I won’t be sad to see you go.
Its true, this was the year I spent as a high school sophomore (and junior, later on), went with the marching band to Boston, celebrated my sweet sixteen, and of course, took my horse Adam to the county fair. I took the stage during the school play The Wizard of Oz as a flying house while also taking on the role of the assistant stage manager. I’m even taking riding lessons again, something I was begging for during this very time last year! My life changed in 2011, as I predict it will continue to in 2012.
In this last blog post of the year 2011, I would like to say that I have no regrets towards the things I did this past year. Everything worked out fine for me in the end. I plan on using the valuable experience and courage gained over the past year across the threshold into 2012 to take on everything the coming year will throw in my path (including the zombie apocalypse, if it may). I plan on seizing the year, living my life the way I dream it, and keep working towards a future horse jockey career. Adam’s coggins and vaccine papers came in the mail from the vet today, so we will be taking on the 2012 show season and the county fair again! From now on I plan on showing English. This past week I got a new pelham bit, riding helmet, and breeches to start off with! I had a wonderful Christmas spent with my family and cannot wait to celebrate with them again tomorrow for the new year. (Happy Birthday, Dad, too!) Thank you to the year 2011 for the great memories, and welcome 2012 to keep the fun times going! Happy New Year (and belated Christmas) to all of my friends, family, and blog readers.
This Halloween I did my best to replicate the dress worn by dancer Tracy Phillips in My Chemical Romance’s music video for “Helena”. Originally I wanted to wear it to their concert in the middle of September, but due to the cold weather I decided to save it for Halloween.
The fabric for the dress originated from a few articles of clothing purchased at a Goodwill store. I bought a black dress a few sizes larger than usual and just kept taking it in and sewing it until its shape resembled Helena’s black dress. Then I added the bright red fabric underneath, the black fluff near the dress’s top, and finally the black netting for the lowest layer. Since it was originally designed to survive a rock concert, I shortened it compared to the real dress to prevent anyone from accidentally stepping or catching anything on it.