Day Dreams of a Spaced out Old Man

[Deleted54170User]

Anyone new to MORROWIND, or maybe you're are a Veteran and would like to reminisce a little; there are treasures deep in the Archives; to be found.

 

One such treasure is an ode I that reminded me of my experience with the Cliff Racers.

 

To see it go to Ode to Cliff Racers by Jenlyn Fayre, Sep 28 2004 02:33 PM

 

Click on this link to go to it.>>> https://forums.nexusmods.com/index.php?/topic/10834-ode-to-cliff-racers/

[Deleted54170User]

Out of the darkest corners of our minds the links to hopeful memories shine, arise old the child within,

take another look at what once was fun with chagrin.

 

Two people died so near in time to one another yesterday;

 

Christopher Columbus Kraft, Jr.

 

https://arstechnica.com/science/2019/07/christiopher-columbus-kraft-nasas-legendary-flight-director-has-died/

 

Rutger Hauer

 

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2019/07/rutger-hauer-genre-actor-and-blade-runner-icon-has-died-at-75/

 

The sense I received nearly smothered the tiny speck of hope to reason above in the sky.

 

I cried for the loss of Rutger.

 

As I read that NASA lost a member, whose full name I saw.

 

I felt a tremor. I thought a pain might occur. More tears might follow. And now the tears do too.

 

It was a snicker, trickling through, giving me a feeling, a tiny sense, of joy. For which a bit of guilt followed for enjoying the conundrum.

 

Columbus never actually landed on the American continent.

[Deleted54170User]

To you Darkside fighter pilots:

 

Can't you see!

 

Can't you see!

 

What I've done,

 

You should run

 

Because of what I've done

 

I've shot down

 

all your friends

 

trying to shoot down

 

the star ship

 

full of your old friends.

 

Traitors now,

 

with secrets to trade and sell,

 

you'd do well

 

to get out before

 

I send you to the same place

 

I sent the other pilots

 

into spaces vacuum

 

down to Helios'.

 

Turn around,

 

Fly away

 

while you can

 

For I am the Jedi captain

 

saving those traitors

 

who will get a better home

 

receive more money then I can borrow

 

from a bank for a loan

 

Just for squealing like little pigs,

 

telling all their tales,

 

about the secrets that the Empire

 

has for sale.

 

I shot down all your Frigates

 

Knocked out all their Turrets

 

I've even blasted your battle ships

 

into space,

 

I saw a Sith holding a soldier by the neck

 

hanging him outside the ship,

 

firing his blaster rifle

 

at the traitors ship.

 

So turn around

 

from that fate.

 

Race away,

 

Save your self for another day

 

For shooting you down

 

All I get

 

is a ship

 

that one day

 

will be my doom,

 

a bunch of well wishers

 

praising me

 

for blowing your ships to smithereens,

 

Happy about me making

 

your days full of gloom.

 

Fly back to your Cantina

 

Tip a glass to your lost pilots

 

And save your war cries

 

for that day

 

I'll be the one who shouts

 

and wishes

 

I had run away.

 

 

 

[Deleted54170User]

The rocket ship's tank was full of water. The rocket ship was attached to the launch pad. 8 pumps on the pressurizer and the count down began. Lift off!

The water sprayed down on upon us observers as the rocket ship rose up and reached eight feet high.

After gathering it up from nearby on the lawn from the last launch, I prepared it for another.

The plastic model of a space ship was almost twelve inches tall. I could fill it with water right up to the mark I could see through the plastic body. It was store bought model, a fine space ship with four fins to keep it's flight in control, and colors blue and green tinted the plastic the body and enhanced the trim. Letters pointed to a line to see on the sides so I could see how much water to put in it so it was filled correctly.

Slipping the nozzle into the launch pad at the end where the water will be jettisoned from, again, I flipped the locking dock's clip. I moved back to the foot pump at a safe distance from the rocket. Gave the pump the count of eight pumps. Then I told every to call out the count down.

10,

9,

8,

7,

6,

5,

4,

3,

2,

1...

BLAST OFF.

Squeals of delight filled the back yard. As the rocket rose we danced around to get under the cool spray.

On that hot Summer day the water's spray cooled our little bodies as it spewed out of the rising rocket ship.

All powered by the air pumped into it pressurizing above the water the inside the toy rocket ship.

[Deleted54170User]

Dreams I had

showed me

that two women were

of interest

or interested in me

but neither lingered

lingered long enough

to engage or

impregnate

and so I

was a father;

hope destroyed again

 

When the light

from sun shone

at the edges of

a curtain drawn

to keep out the morning.

I found my self again,

 

Alone.

Yawn!

 

There's so much

I would like to talk about,

and so little time.

I returned from dream sleep,

a lot on my mind,

of which was

short

clips,

Barely time for words

to find my ears

as they left someone

else's lips.

[Deleted54170User]

There are more than two of you and two of me,

 

As many of us have figured out,

 

While playing many video games

 

there is more than 3 no doubt.

 

Me, myself, and I the proper speech tells us to say,

 

when talking about our self,

 

in each and every way.

 

Now I have another,

 

Pagafyr in the mix,

 

and like Davyth Fyr

 

I like to examine

 

the battle of the tiny

 

specks of people

 

causing havoc

 

called disease.

 

On us,

 

and everything

 

even cheese.

 

I have an Espresso'.

 

Sitting or lounging as I sip it,

 

Breakfast on the fold out couch

 

it is said where we sleep

 

Breakfast is better in bed.

 

On days when I am trying to find a nobrainer

 

I try to keep,

 

reminding me

 

of the child still residing in us all,

 

and my head too

 

That has two wolves

 

in some peoples thinking

 

fighting to be on top

 

While during that stinking

 

sweating and drinking,

 

I observed from a position

 

during a few transitions

 

I found another me in the audience

 

with at least five more me's.

 

Cheering and Booing

 

As we pleased,

 

While one was a critique,

 

God you might know,

 

While friend of my youth

 

one was GI Joe,

 

later a ventriloquist wooden dummy

 

entered my life,

 

One Charley McCarthy,

 

gave me a challenge

 

to make him speak

 

and it was difficult and made another me rummy,

 

A soda entered that gave me some caffeine

 

The indomitable mister Pibb,

 

who I never knew could cause bad.

 

No one knew I moved under the table

 

when I was still a lad.

 

For the bad me under the table

 

wasn't caught tieing the shoelaces together,

 

small wonder since,

 

everyone thought I was innocence

 

personified

 

the youngest of the player me's still

 

While the siblings abused each other joyously

 

and never thought I saw or heard

 

then one day they all stood up

 

and from the table stumbled

 

and swerved.

 

all of them had every sense

 

of all those decency lessons bumped I heard

 

as their feet were tripped,

 

out of their mouths came discouraging words

 

and called out to the new me,

 

adding smiles to my new bad strength

 

to assure the good me wins a battle against,

 

the game the good me is playing

 

at the moment against an evil being.

 

As I observed all about,

 

shouting at the little child

 

so small, and with new clout.

 

Evil me observed

 

God me too.

 

My Guardian keeping Evil me in check,

 

keeping bad me from becoming a living nightmare,

 

while playing video game daymares. (that's a word! ... Where have I heard that line before? that's a word?) :D

 

I've found some new mods today, that make a few patches and updates. I found one update I recommend... My SKSE64 was sooo out of date since the last time I played Skyrim SE. The broken Skyrim SE build I discovered because of a long pause between plays, also included the mod loader in STEAM.

 

I don't know why, not playing for several months caused the mod switches to be un-ticked, seeming to uninstall mods which made Skyrim SE, to me, seem as fit as Skyrim Classic. Of course, after much hard work, of course, the mods were found, when I turned switches and reentered the copy I made of the eye and eye ini so the game play was the way you and I; who have played Skyrim Classic, and liked it so much we loved to play it.

 

I discovered what happened with Skyrim SE was, somehow the STEAM version ini page got overwrote. The one I built with the help of so many modders and techs advice was gone, so the original ini page broke the game when I returned to the future to past plays. And that caused even my good me to lose it.

 

Gamers beware of those other me's you and I don't share. The one that raises the roof, the one that hollers at shadows, while the two observe; we know as Evil and God, and they converse, and the ones which are mean and Despicable me's too, 2 and 3, who knew?

 

I have yet to tarry with those who marry. Probably cause I have so many mental ills, caused because of those who let me be, without telling me important things, like, there are no such things as Werewolves.

 

Except in comic books, television shows, and movies. Well, then in my conclusion; make believe is a powerful tool. And if you fear some thing you don't understand it's like any Superstition

[Deleted54170User]

That part of me that made the body into the strongest, will still be around when my manhood fades, and has been for the longest. I am curious about that fleeting clout and thinking that it's near time to visit that place on my mind, where the two of us once played.

 

Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater?

 

No!

 

That is not the theme I'm thinking about. That part of us all; who keeps up the great mask, has seen through the disguises of everyone, and that includes even the women in the house. We don't need to be crazy or lazy, but we know how. When we're in that mindfulness full of spunk and feeling bright, what we find is most intriguing is; that which fires up our delights.

 

Look here, and you will all see, what came to be. What new came to be took us in, from the imagination of the one who gave it some more thought too.

[Deleted54170User]

I take it you've never seen a ghost before?

We don't need food, but some people just like to keep up the tradition.

Holidays, picnics, campouts, and other places people used to go are all haunted.

We don't need company, and again, it's just where misery loves company began.

All the world's people's woes are the groans, moans, and cries some people call the wind.

I tried to tell you before, the only person that can see what I write is so close to me right now, if they looked at one of those things called a mirror they scream at the site.

I really enjoyed the one time I was poisoned and placed in a shallow grave. None of the people were wise about the earth. But they wanted my clothes, buried me just deep enough that I wouldn't be found. Funny thing about being poisoned and buried completely naked in slightly dried soil. I found out the soil leeches the moisture out of your pores and if the poison is a liquid it gets sucked right out through our skin.

I was still sick, of course. But I was able to sit up. The dirt rolled off me easy as snow. I leaned over and puked the rest of the stuff out. I gradually gain strength. I started out crawling, got up on my hands and knees a few times, the poison had done its worst. Because I moved slow, I didn't cause more harm, and I gained ground.

I finally got up and started to walk. Staggering like a baby that just learned how. My head swam a few times and I fumbled with the dew on the ground. The evenings wet chill urged me to get back up. I gained my footing and steps grew stronger. Half covered in dirt, grime like I had been digging in the soot of a coal mine. I walked until I saw a light in a window. My ears were ringing louder than the church bell. I walked up to the edge of town. The first house I saw I started to run, but that caused me to get sick and barf again.

I struggled back to my feet. The world blurred by the dark of night. I kept moving. A step at a time. I walked a few paces dripping from the damp grass I fell in. Nearly fell as I got close to a house's siding. I felt a shaft. Wood and sturdy. I could hold myself up when I leaned too far to one side.

As the sounds from the only building in the center of the place grew clearer I grew nearer. I picked up the wooden shaft and moved it ahead of me so I could lean on it for support. I lifted it and moved it ahead, took two steps again and again. My head. I tried to speed up to get to the building with light in the windows.

I could hear the sounds more clearly. The noise in my ears from the near death experience began to fade. I stopped for a moment. I listened. The people inside were singing. Singing a psalm familiar to me. I knew it what the building was. I took several more cautious steps toward it. I could see it was the church. The words they sang sounded sweet and comforting. Calling up memories of when I was a child.

I was feeling warmer in the chill of night. I suddenly remembered the joy that I used to feel when singing with the group from my home town. I suddenly remembered and was feeling certain I would find help.

I raised the wooden shaft I used for a crutched. Moved slowly and surely each time I set it back down. two steps, then three, then four. I was nearly to the churches eastern door. A cooling breath shocked me when I inhaled deeply though my nose. I started looking about for anything I could use to cover my dirty flesh. I saw a sheet hanging on the line outside the church. I grabbed it. Pulled it to my body and draped over my shoulders. It was so large I wrapped it around me and tied a knot in part of it. Once I had it on tight I grabbed hold of the wooden shaft that had become my cane.

I picked it up and swung it forward. Stopped it on the ground and walked to it. Each step closer to the churches front door seemed promising to me. I felt sure I would survive and be cared for by the souls within. The porch light was dim as I put my cane down on the first step. Soon I would be within. I took the next step. My head bowed. The sheet fluttered caught in a little breeze as the church door swung out. It bumped my head. I began to fall backward. I gripped the wooden shaft tightly to use it to stop me from falling. The door came out further. I slipped off the top step and started falling backward. The wooden shaft was lifted high above my head. The person coming out the door had barely enough light to see into the darkness. There was someone so terrified they screamed. I heard feet shuffling. I saw the shaft of wood in my hand. I saw the light gleam on the other end of that tool. Someone threw something that hit me in the groin. It caused so much pain I bent forward swinging the arm with the wooden shaft from the left to the right.

I heard a sound like stabbing a stick in fresh mud. I heard a thump on the concrete at my feet. I rose up to see who was coming at me. Raising the wooden stick up as I started to fall back again. I felt the shiver down the wooden shaft as it's other end brushed across the person there. Another scream. I started to lose my footing. One foot slipped off the stair and I spun so I was facing away from the door. I kept my grip on the wooden shaft and it kept me from falling as it swung through the air. I hit something again. But slowed very little. I heard a sound. I was about turned all the way around. The shaft in my grip was level in front of me as high as my head. I saw the person start to speak. I saw in the light the churches door that the person stood near. A gun in his hand was pointed in my direction. The last thing I saw was a bright flash of light. The explosion that followed hurt my ears. I stumbled backward. The other end of the wooden shaft seemed to be moving so fast it caused me think it was a blur in the churches lights.

The person froze. His head seemed to rise. He started to fall toward me while I pulled the cane back in so I could put it down to keep me from falling over. The shine on the other end of my cane caught my eye as the light from inside bright gave me clear sight. I noticed what it was that I had used as a cane.

I realized why the air made the strange whistling sound when it was swinging around. I stumbled out of the darkness into the church. I was alone all the rest of the night. I looked around and found a room where the minister and her family bathed. No one home. They all must have run out as I was fumbling about outside in the dark. What the man with gun was doing shooting it I didn't know.

I didn't want to know.

I used the shower first to rinse off the dirt and grime. I put the stopper into the drain and let the tub fill. I stammered a bit trying to think of what to say if anyone came in and discovered I was using their tub. The bathtub filled with steaming water. I sat down. I floated. I felt so much relief I must have fallen asleep.

I awakened when the water chilled me. It was morning. I looked around for anyone; any sign of life. I found a pile of clothes and hoped some would fit me. I picked up underwear. Sat and put my feet through the holes. I picked up the trousers. They were just my size. I adjusted my self on the chair. Turned to put them on. I sat on the edge of the chair. One leg at time. It seemed so weird. Dressing in someone else's clothes. I picked up the sox's. While I bent down something fell out of the right pants pocket. I saw it was a wallet. Common brown leather with a card starting to slip out. I set it on the bed thinking it wouldn't be right to take someone's wallet too.

I turned back to the chair. Lifted the shirt off the back. I checked to see it would fit.

I was fortunate again.

Two other bundles of clothes were piled near a laundry bin. I checked them. As felt better I began to feel more alert. My stomach growled. I hoped I would find someone soon so I could clear things up and find my own stuff. I bent over to get the wallet. Maybe there would be someone information in it that would help me find the owner. I figured he would be the minister or something like that. I opened the sleeve. I felt something pressing against my left in my left front pocket.

I reached in and pulled out a car fob with some keys. I heard some noise near the front door of the church. A clap of thunder arrived. I dashed to the doors to see in anyone was nearby. I opened the door on the right. Stepped through with my left and as my eyes followed around I saw a mans face. I suddenly swallowed hard. I clothes my eyes and began to beg for my life, because he was the man who offered me shelter. Offered me the comfort of his home, because there was no room at the motel.

I was on my knees in fear for my life. I began mumbling. I noted there were no feet on the ground in front of me. I turned my head so I could see where he went. When it fell on me that he wasn't there. I looked up I saw a wooden handle. My eyes followed the shaft. I wondered if it was my cane from last night.

As my sight rose up, I tried to backup. The man who last I had seen while I drank the drink he offered me was missing his body. The item I had used for a cane stuck out of the back of his head. Turning to gasp for air I saw behind me, his body. Blood flowing down the steps. A gun in his hand. I felt terror rising. I looked for anyone who might know him.

I took deep breaths. I started to sit down on the step when I saw what looked like brown earth moved by a breaze strong enough only to ruffle my shirt. As I gazed upon the motion it became clear that it wasn't dirt.

Cloth floated and rippled on the bodies strewn around the front porch. I still had the wallet in my hand. I opened it. The picture on the drivers license was mine. All those people.

All sliced open. A symbol of an animal on their vestments. Bloodied, gutted, beheaded, and for what?

If there was anyone else living in the small town. Maybe I should call it a village. Either there weren't anymore people living there, or, they all packed up and cleared out during the night.

My car! I looked at it. I found it in the garage of the last house. The one where I found my blessed walking stick. The scythe. I found the owners had a pretty good supply of pharmaceuticals. I saw the cups that I remembered when we were drinking. There was a bottle of poisonous stuff left there with them.

It was morning. I felt sick from all that I had learned. How ignorant people took advantage of strangers. Acting so kind and peaceful. I walked around. I found a book. It was one I read as a child. A book for entertainment on Hallow's Eve. Only it was set up on a shelf. Candles and incense had been burnt around it, with the ornaments of the grim story pictured in the book exactly as they appeared set up around it.

I suddenly felt sick, because all those grown people worshipped a children's story like it was a real book to call up a demon. If what they wanted to happen was a man to come about, poison him as a part of the act and then have him come back to life swinging a scythe like a combine chopping them into little bits, then they got what they wanted.

I still couldn't believe me thinking that people could be like that. So secluded from the world they didn't know a book was for ages 8 to 12. Right there on the first page. For ages 8 to 12. So during their regular lives they farmed, acted like good christians. Then led an innocent stranger to their little village as a sacrifice.

That's when it hit me. I wasn't lured there. Maybe someone else was!

I started searching the area.

Please make me wrong about this! Please! Why me?!

I found what I was looking for. I wouldn't have believed it ever in a million years. But there she was. tied to a post. Head down. Muddied clothes. I started to whimper like a child.

Why me?

I heard that scream again. The same scream I heard before the first person exited the church and got caught in my fumbling stumbling swinging of a scythe in the dark.

I did everything I could to assure her I wasn't there to hurt her. I spent the better part of the first ten minutes trying to assure her the bad people were not going to hurt her. She calmed down enough for me to cut her loose. The ropes on her wrists had rubbed her skin off.

She slumped down. Weak as kitten. They were going to burn me. Burn me alive.

I lifted her up and carried her to the infirmary. I listened as she related her affairs with the fully grown people who acted like a bunch of ten years old making their lives out to be like somewhere over the rainbow. So giving, so kind, so attentive. I thought the charming man with them liked me. When you showed up driving into town they stopped being so friendly and started getting pushy. I was getting suspicious when the man and his sister came back, back like their good ol' happy place people.

After what I told what happened she repeatedly said, I should have known.

I decided not to get into a debate about the simple minded people they likely were. I took a breath. Do you know how many people were here? I mean, how many people were around? Maybe you saw any children?

I thought about what she recalled. Twelve houses. Circling the church. The same as in the picture on the front of the book cover. I counted the bodies in my head. Twelve empty house's.

There was a dozen people. Thirteen including her. Just like the book's story. 12 worshippers and a sacrifice makes 13. But then I came along and broke up their party before they got to dancing around the mushroom ring and light the fire to summoned the one who would leave them be for another year.

A dragon would have swooped down from the sky and taken the offering off into the dragon's lair somewhere. I needed to fix the car. The starter was broken. Likely because they didn't realize it was a push button starter and the key fob had to be in the car. My skills a thief faded away when I was 3 or 4 so I never needed to learn how to hotwire a car. We decided not to call in the army. After discussing the situation and learning our different parts in the story we decided the story told all, and no one would believe us. She made us of a shovel while I worked on the car. Then I shoveled for awhile.

While I was digging I was determined that none of them were going to get up in the middle of the night and walk away. 6 feet deep and 4 feet wide and 7 feet long. I didn't care when I realized they all were under 5 foot 8 inches tall. I didn't care that I could have gotten done sooner if I had made the 6 feet long. I made the graves before I knew. I looked at her, Yeah, I know. Now!

She packed some food, for the trip. After I saw what she thought would be enough until she got back to where she was going, I took a gunny sack and loaded it for the rest of my journey back to where I would have to find a new life. A real job. And as I went through each house and gathered the food I came up with another plan. I mean, afterall, I was raised by a woman who was crazed because of the loss of her family's ranch and she taught me a lot of things I never needed to know.

As the car rolled along the highway the reason I had gone all the way out to that remote place was on my mind. I was looking for a job as a farm hand. It's all they had at the employment agency. As we left the dirt road and turned to go the way my new traveling mate had come from I learned I lost my way.

Just about 20 miles away was a farm with a sign and it said, Hiring. Ding. What surprised me the most was when the gal asked about any other jobs around. She hinted, like a certain old village nearby. She didn't realize we traveled 30 miles on the dirt and cobblestone road before we got to the highway.

I saw how her hints were causing the person at the gas station to feel uncomfortable. When her back was too me I did the tip a bottle routine. The guy winked at me and took the money for gas.

We were on the road for a day. We shared lots on the topic of our near death experience. I saw her place. As the car rolled to the side of the curb I realized she was kind of a princess type. She lives in a nice home. With a big dog, happy to see her return because he was likely very hungry.

She became engrossed with the dog and forgot I was there. Walked right into the house and closed the door behind her before I could say, bye. I waited in wonder and lonely shock for about a minute before my stomach growled. The second I heard her saying how the dogs mommy missed him so I took that to mean this wasn't a prince and princess story happening.

Back to the car. I grabbed a roll, a bottle of creme soda, and took my time eating in the car. Maybe it would be a one of those moments where one of us realizes something and we talk again. I finished the meal. Started the car. Pulled it away from the curb and drove off into the sunset. As I was rolling along I suddenly realized I needed to go really bad. I could turn around and get to the place where I dropped her off or go to a nearby convenience store I could see the top of their sign a block away. I decided see if they had a restroom for their customers.

I walked in, saw the restroom sign and darted for the room. While I washed my hands I heard thunder and felt the building shake. I was thinking it was an earthquakes but when I opened the door I could see that it was much worse than that. Fortunately there was a fire extinguisher in the hall. I pulled the pin and sprayed it on the fire to make a path so I could get out of the burning rubble.

The store clerk was standing outside staring at the sky. I asked her what happened as I grabbed the door handle of my car. She pointed at the sky and said we better get out of here fast. Give me a ride! I looked up at the sky and could see a big black dot with tiny wings headed our way. The gal didn't wait, she forced me to open the passenger lock. Got in. I started the car, and drove to the exit where the signal light steel pole was melted down like a candle, that had been burning all night.

I looked in the left rear view mirror to check behind me. I saw that the bird had become bigger. A beast. My foot became a lead foot. The car sped along the asphalt as I drove around the pot holes with smoke rising from the asphalt getting a little too overheated.

The car slid on the slippery hot surface as both the new gal and I screamed together, at the same moment.

I refer to the book I still had from the farm village now. Which I assure you was a book for children.

Like I was saying though. The car's tires were sliding around on hot asphalt. And we hollared!

You really don't want to know what it was. I assure you don't...So don't peek. I would not recommend you look to see why we were screaming like a couple of children. It was the last thing in that children's book. Remember? If you don't remember you don't want to know. That's the way it is with our brains. When we can not believe what we are seeing we don't want to remember, and so, most of us don't. So don't do it. >>> Be prepared to scream...

IT'S A DRAGON!!!

[Deleted54170User]

Whenever I find myself writing and think of any of my friends it is usually to converse. Say; to admire your work, or to find out what your opinion is.

Standard writers code to protect writers and is the law: Do not to use another person's real name or any identifying references so as to avoid causing them any unintentional discomfort.

 

I may not know a public who is so fond of my work they tell their friends about it, so I become acknowledged as a writer. At least not yet, but because I studied to learn how to write for the newspaper and failed getting a job at it, I learned the laws associated to newspaper rules, non-fiction as well as for fiction writing.



The law for Writers is there to protect the writer from unintentionally getting sued, because they didn't get proper permission from their friends or neighbors who they unintentionally wrote into a story either of fiction or non-fiction.



When your passion is writing and I mean you get so caught up in it you seem possessed and write like your life depends on you finishing the work; If you feel yourself under the writing spell "Remember the following advice" I was given it by a judge. Write until you stop... Move your words by, Copy and Paste, pasting to your computers wordpad or some such word processor, and then; Without clicking Post; if in a forum... First Remove it from the forum/blog/writers web source and place it on your computer/word processor... There; safely away from where your mind got ignited by the fires of the magic keyboard. For your own safety in the writer's world if you value your Certificate, or want one from, the Writer's Guild.

Then with your entire story you so passionately wrote; complete; completely RAW and unedited and safe on your computer, let it rest there for a day or two whilst you calm down. With your AMAZING STORY SAFELY SAVED and stored, safely on your computer, you can examine it and edit it to assure your great story doesn't carry the burden of possible Flaming from someone in the forums nexusmods com in the future. And any unlikely chance someone sues you for any reason in the likelihood you publish it RAW. Keep this in mind for the possible likelihood that any other story you publish you might get rich from selling books may make you a target for lawsuits when someone discovers an old story you posted online during your days of innocent ponderings of wonder that could give them reason enough to sue you.

 

If you find yourself fired up while posting on the forums nexusmods com page posting area; I suggest that you use the Copy/Paste/Save to Wordpad technique. A simple path to take; after you're done, then, to make sure you haven't accidentally added names and described your neighbors in the words work. Change the names to protect the innocent/guilty parties so they don't sue you if they ever were to find out you wrote about them about their private lives.



Note: I do not write about my private life. Here or anywhere, where I put words into the magic book of sci-fi, action adventure fictions; with historical markers about life. I prefer anything I write with only a bit of some historical record to make it interesting with characters who are all fiction with no link to anyone anywhere even; at any web source or website.



For example there are times when I refer to certain characters of importance to the Fiction story historical markers with a fondness for their fictional stories. References.

 

Examples; Indiana Jones is owned; copyrighted. As is the book version of the story. Some historical stuff is real, in the stories. The movie "The House on Haunted Hill".

 

My favorite movie version of the House on Haunted Hill has Vincent Price in the leading role.

If I seem to be repeating myself, it's to keep our friendship; so we never have a moment when we argue about seemingly nothing of import that we later regret so horribly we can't seem to find a way back to our friendly days of punching each other on the arm and giving each other a monkey bump that lasts and lasts; for a week or so.

[Deleted54170User]

I had a bit of breakfast at a table set up for me in the hall. I chewed the last bite slowly while waiting for the elevator. It's ornamental steel metal rods and square bars made of platinum and gold designed by one of the greatest craftsman of the 18th century rattled a little as the cage slowly descended to my floor.

 

I sat waiting in the Hall of my paid for and slightly in need of further refurbishing hotel. A very well cared for hotel. I spent the time eating a light breakfast and sipping my morning coffee. Money acquired recently paid to get the gears, pullies, and cables greased that quieted the elevator as it approached my location. The new tenant whose money was in part responsible for that good work on the elevator was in the elevator as it descended.

 

I was informed he needed a refresher as to his rental agreement and behavior expected of him while staying in the oldest refined establishment on Earth. Apparently he, like many others, had not read the contract for those who stay for more than a day. Which, by the way, he signed when he gave up his credit information.

 

He accepted the rooms and yet did not bother to realize this hotel is only haunted by living souls. It has living customers who live and visited relatives afar. Some of them are year round tenants.

 

Rules! You know!

 

So many new people don't reason with the text on these long winded brochures.

 

Some of the neighbors, closest to his rooms, were disturbed by sounds that caused the walls to vibrate.

 

The elevator appeared. The operator, in his red suit with solid gold threads holding it all together, and inlaid gold trim with the hotel symbol on his elevator hat, set the lever to hold the elevator at the floor and slid the beautiful door open.

 

I rose from my chair. The house master picked up the breakfast plate and coffee cup saucer, then rolled the fork, knife, and spoon in the gold laced napkin. Another member of the staff took the table folded it's 16th century designer styled legs and took it aside. I lifted the paper with the tenant's agreement that the desk clerk had delivered. It has several tick marks at where the other tenants complaints referred to.

 

I unfolded it and walked toward the elevator to meet the man, displaying the grievances. As we walked I slowly read the ejection notice at the bottom declaring how sorry I was for having to cut his stay so short.

 

The new visitor began to look a bit shrouded by the realization we don't hold to people trying to raise the dead, pounding on walls to find secret passageways, and calling out disturbed noises. I took his forearm gently in my hand. I walked with him down the dimly candle lighted hall toward the front exit. Wholy explaining the different points ticked off on the papers. The house detective behind me kept checking his neck to be sure his collar didn't get too tight from becoming frustrated. The baggage he brought was nicely packed and brought along, behind carried by the hotels luggage cart.

 

We arrived at the front door. I handed him the refund for his payment excluding the charges for his actions and scarring of the hand carved trim where he chipped the mahogany seeking levers and buttons. Also pointed out the charges for the bruising, dents, and such he had put in the freshly painted walls we had done specifically to honor our new guest and hopefully returning happy client to all of his rented rooms.

 

I pointed out, I got you in at a house down in the lower class section of the city where houses are haunted by the ghosts of many years passed. I knew that, that would more likely suit his demeanor. The house detective opened the car door and let him climb in on his own accord.

 

I looked at him, I have taken the liberty to be a good host and called ahead so you'll not be on your feet searching for a place to stay. A nice old motel near the cliffs. The Salvation Ladies Amore's Motel is by the sea where you can get a clear view of the harbor where the ships come in. And they don't mind Rockers and loud music at all hours of the night and day. The sailors will barely note any sound other then the loud crashing of the oceans waves that separate the docks noises from around the docks. The quietest spot near the ladies motel is where the owners take customers who have found mysteries in the dark and wailed extraordinary works along with their musical instruments playing loudly. A gate to their own cemetery is quite the opposite of our beautiful ornamental designers crafted gate. They have scraps of plastic in the forms of skulls, monsters, screaming faces, crossed plastic bones of pirates holding swords, holding blades in their teeth, and ghosts.

 

I hope where the band members rock and roll night and day when getting off or on their parties. Where sailors pour in off their captains ships like the waves foam flopping down on the shore will suit you.

 

Enjoy!