Daily archives: September 4, 2006

Heavensent 10.4

Suddenly the mountain squadrons were back in their element. They swept up the fjord, dodging the expected gun blister on the cliff walls. There was no return fire, which was a disappointment to some of the pilots. They were under orders, with the exception of the lifting blimps, to only engage if fired upon. Any sunken vessel would have to be recovered or removed and they wanted the port operating again as soon as possible.

The soft grey shapes were clustered around a control ship, easy targets even in morning shadow. The lead Cicciles lanced incendiaries into the nearest blimp and pulled away. It deflated and began to sink, suggestions of flame making the bullet holes larger. The second pair of Cicciles were lining up when dirty yellow flames rolled over the blimp’s skin. Once it had started, the fire transferred rapidly to the other balloons.

There was one other blimp before the bridges. The Cicciles took a pass each at it then left it to sink toward the water.

The flight climbed out of the fjord as the bridges approached, and started to take fire. There were defences on either end of each bridge, checkpoints to control the flow of citizens. If any bridge had charges set on it, they would be fired from one of these bunkers.

The attack should have involved more planes, now they just had one Wasp per bunker. The Cicciles strafed the first bunkers as the designated Wasps lined up their bomb runs. Fire zones had been cleared around the bunkers, so the sandbagged emplacement was an easy hit.

By the time they reached the last bridge, the defenders had fled their posts.

Heavensent 10.5
Heavensent 10.3
Heavensent 1.1

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"In the midst of life we are in death"

MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
In the midst of life we are in death: of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, O LORD, who for our sins art justly displeased?
Yet, O LORD GOD most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death.
Thou knowest, LORD, the secrets of our hearts; shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer; but spare us, LORD most holy, O GOD most mighty, O holy and merciful SAVIOUR; thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.

Which all seems so unnecessarily negative. Having spent several hours wandering around Southern Cemetery I’d say quite the opposite. In the midst of this sprawling park dedicated to death there is nothing but life. Trees are everywhere, several dripping apples over the lucky souls memorialised beneath them. There were blackcurrant bushes and ivy wrapped around headstones and squirrels running everywhere.

After I’d been wandering around for an hour and a half the man who was emptying the various bins into the back of his Transit pick up stopped to ask if I was lost. I couldn’t really explain that I was just pottering, and I didn’t want to tell him I was collecting images for a set of background images for renders.

L S Lowry‘s buried somewhere in Southern Cemetery, so I read last week, but I couldn’t find his memorial. I did, however, happen upon those of John Rylands and John Alcock. The real tales of the city are in the ordinary graves, however. There were far too many to take in in one day. I was brought up short every so often by memorials to children and babies, and I did like the very Dickensian name of the Workmaster family. I’m not a religious person, but I did feel the need to pay respect at the war memorials, one for civilians and another for servicemen. Simply placing a hand on the stone seemed to do the job, I don’t know how or why.

I wandered around Southern Cemetery for around three hours, and I could probably go back and spend longer, concentrating on one area to see if there’s any family tales to be told.

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Early morning optimism

I’ve been waking up at this time and earlier and feeling bad about life. It’s easy to dwell on the negative here in the dark, so I’ve decided to do something to shake myself up. Every time I find myself awake at this time of day I’ll post a positive thought to spinneyhead.

Today’s positive thought- I’m writing another novel. This one’s very much of the make it up as you go along variety and should be an adventure in itself. More on it as it takes shape.