Tag: Surreal Reality

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The Heron Thinks

Oh no… he’s spotted me. Just act nice and casual… take it nice and slowly…

I’ll nonchalantly wander around here, and pretend I haven’t seen him… Ooh, who’s that over there?

Sigh. How did he make it here before me?

Ah well, best grin and bear it I suppose.

I can always fly away if he gets any closer. At least this is my best side.


About the images:

Taken in May 2017, out in the Grinds by the Lake, using a Galaxy Note mobile phone. I’m pretty certain this is what the heron was thinking.

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Mead and Mortals

Lightning flashed and made her look up. The doors to the inn, a mere second later, swung inwards simultaneously and the room was instantly filled with a strong-odoured wind.

“By the gods!” the woman muttered, but stayed where she was, propped.

Zeus walked into the inn, followed by his consort Hera.

“Wench!” He bellowed, “A tankard of your finest mead!”

The woman stayed where she was,  elbows on the bar with her chin resting upon her ample and severely uplifted bosom.

“Zeus!” Hera admonished. “You must not speak like that, in such a derogatory way, towards women. How dare you. Apologise. Now!” She glared at Zeus with such strength he felt a hole beginning to bore into his head.

“It’s…” The woman tried to speak, but Zeus held aloft his hand and interrupted her.

“Woman!” He bellowed once again, toward Hera this time. “How dare YOU! Do you not know to whom you speak? I am Zeus, knower of everything!” His voice echoed around the room. Hera sheepishly looked away for a second.

“I’m…” The woman tried to speak again, but Hera stopped her this time.

“Patience, child. I have a matter with this ‘gentleman’ which must be settled first. He thinks he’s the ruler of the gods! The fool”.

“…” The woman tried to speak for a third time, and both stopped her by holding aloft their hands.

“I AM the ruler of the gods, Hera. And the waves. And the fire. And the nymphs. AND the wenches.” Zeus looked at the woman at the bar, who was propped but agog.

“ZEUS! Remember your place. You are upon the Earth now, and it is these mortals who think they rule the domain. You must respect that, and their ways, whilst you are here. Now, I shall get the drinks.”

Hera looked over at the woman who was literally on the bar. She noticed the woman hadn’t changed position since they’d walked in, which was a strange thing for a mortal to do in the presence of any god. Zeus tried to speak, but Hera simply held up her hand and stopped him. “Are you alright, child?” Hera asked with compassion. “Tell me, what is your name.”

“It’s Wenshetta. Wench for short.”

Hera glanced over to Zeus who was silently whistling into the air. He said nothing.

“Ah. Erm, your stance, child. Are you hurt?”

“No,” Wench replied, “but the mead cupboard toppled over behind the bar and has me trapped here. I’ve been waiting all day for someone to walk in. I’m bursting for the loo, and all this mead everywhere isn’t helping.”

“So you have NO mead?” Zeus boomed.

“ZEUS!” Hera was livid.

It didn’t take them long to help Wench out of her predicament and as a thank you, after a lengthy wait whilst Wench saw to her natural needs, they all sat at the inn’s only table by the roaring log fire, with a tankard of the inn’s finest mead each.

“Nectar to the gods!” Zeus beamed, once finished.

“And no charge” Wench said. “as a thank you”

“CHARGE!!!” Zeus returned to booming once again.

“ZEUS!” Hera now boomed. She looked towards Wench. “Thank you child, we shall now depart for we have a long journey ahead. Or one of us does, should the other not make it.” She glared at Zeus once again.

Wench watched them walk out of the door.

“She was going to charge us. ME! Ruler of the gods. Does she know not to whom she served?”

“Zeus!”

The doors closed behind them, and they were gone.

“By the gods!” Wench muttered, once again. “Some people!”

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The Place of W

Outside the realms of my magical and wondrous Mansion exists another place. The polar opposite, if you like.

A dark and sinisterly treacherous place known only as W. There, clouds swirl in turmoil overhead, and sometimes around. Icy winds blast and cut straight through exposed skin, deep into the warm veins beneath – some dare say they reach deep within the soul. With me, they simply try. I have a coat that keeps such things at bay.

The earth churns and groans, as if trying to rid itself of the hefty mass that tries to spread across its surface. Shadows fall down cracks at sunset, with dead trees appearing to take their place, but they are all merely an illusion. An echoing thud thud thud from the distant railway line is sometimes carried in by the wind – more so on misty evenings – but since the railway line was closed down over twenty years ago the actual source remains a mystery.

Old-fashioned telephones can be heard ringing through the broken glass in windows of offices long disused. Sometimes, ghostly voices can be heard in conversation – but with whom? Are they another illusion or a figment of many an imagination. Perhaps they are a recording, trapped amidst the turmoil of the churning and groaning soil of this darkened place.

Other buildings stand ominously. Birds fly around the rooftops like bats and ravens in a horror movie. The buildings themselves seem to come alive on the night of the Full Moon, but some, I’m told, have seen a change at the time of the Summer Solstice. I haven’t seen this personally. I tend not to stick around.

I have to go to this and through this Land of W daily for work.

It makes coming home to the Mansion all the more inviting and all the more pleasurable.

There has to be balance. Things wouldn’t be the same without it.

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Blending In

Out in the Grinds earlier this month, something moving caught my eye on the Little Island out on the Lake. No, it wasn’t the goose, but this chap:

Maybe it is my tired eyes playing tricks on me, but is there something lurking at the water’s edge just beneath the turtle? It isn’t visible in the above image, but it is in the header image. Here’s a larger section:

There’s all sorts out in the Grinds. Some obvious, some not so.

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Success

Debbie’s one-word photo theme for this week is ‘Success’. In order to be successful at something, we need to have succeeded in something. Now, let me put it on record that I’m not very green-fingered, but recently I’ve been getting the urge to create a little flower patch. I have absolutely no idea where these urges and ideas come from, but I went with it. I created a smallish patch and planted a few bulbs and scattered a few seeds. A couple of weeks later, I was astounded to see seedlings appear… several of them dotted over the patch. One of them caught my eye in particular, for it looked to me like an arm stretching from beneath the soil, and it was giving a thumbs-up sign. And if that isn’t a sign of success, I don’t know what is! Perhaps I’m slightly more green-fingered than I initially thought.


About the image:

Close-up photo of an emerging seedling taken using Galaxy Note 4 mobile phone, April 2017.