CHRISTMAS peoples!!!!!!
so that was christmas.
one thing i got for christmas which i am really happy with is two different sized hula hoops. i had read about hula hooping as keeping you very fit and i had 
also previously seen it as a pretty cool act in cirque du soleil (first video link on the right). so now i have two hoops an dim having lots of fun. you can use them the traditional way (around the waist) or you can do that around you feet, knees, neck, hands anywhere really. you can also mix them up with rythmic gymnastic moves like tossing the hoop in the air and catching it again with various dance steps in between. its a lot of fun and im not so unco anymore either. the photos are of circus performance hoop acts. pretty cool huh?
three books, two cats, four dvds, one turkey,
and too many chocolates later here i am.
ok, way down below is a story i have written if you dont want to read this. well, maybe you dont want to read that either....whatever.(note** it is not the bit of writing in this colour)
one thing i got for christmas which i am really happy with is two different sized hula hoops. i had read about hula hooping as keeping you very fit and i had 
also previously seen it as a pretty cool act in cirque du soleil (first video link on the right). so now i have two hoops an dim having lots of fun. you can use them the traditional way (around the waist) or you can do that around you feet, knees, neck, hands anywhere really. you can also mix them up with rythmic gymnastic moves like tossing the hoop in the air and catching it again with various dance steps in between. its a lot of fun and im not so unco anymore either. the photos are of circus performance hoop acts. pretty cool huh? ok. i have written a short story (it might not seem short here but trust me it is). you dont have to read it unless you want to. note** not all of the story is here. i cant type it up all at once so i will do maybe a few chapter at a time. expect the rest of the story soon peoples!!
Chapter One
A row of hunched figures silhouetted again a sky of burning amber wade through an ocean of rippling bodies. The young soldiers brush aside pleading hands and avert their eyes from the agonised faces staring up at them. Some men hum, their eyes closed to the sights as if try to kid themselves they are somewhere else. Another man, close to the front of the line, beats at the hands with his gun. His fear and sorrow for those he cannot help has turned into a mad anger.
As the first star appears in the glow of the setting sun, one young boy stumbles, then falls as he is pulled in by the hungry dead. His screams and pleading go unnoticed by his fellow soldiers, for they have been listening to the cries of the bodies and vultures for hours. Suddenly, a different sound echoes in the distance, a slow rumble which makes the heads of the men flick up instantly. Their bloodshot eyes grow panicked and they begin to yell as they see their death approaching them from the sky. Men try to run in every direction, howling out nonsense sounds of fear, pain and love. As the last drop of sunlit sky falls, disappearing into the night, a high whistle sounds and all eyes are drawn to an object hurtling towards then. For one second before it hits, all the soldiers stop screaming, no vultures cry from the sky and the high pitched kettle whistle ceases. Then suddenly the world erupts in an obliteration of white light and flying bodies.
A row of hunched figures silhouetted again a sky of burning amber wade through an ocean of rippling bodies. The young soldiers brush aside pleading hands and avert their eyes from the agonised faces staring up at them. Some men hum, their eyes closed to the sights as if try to kid themselves they are somewhere else. Another man, close to the front of the line, beats at the hands with his gun. His fear and sorrow for those he cannot help has turned into a mad anger.
As the first star appears in the glow of the setting sun, one young boy stumbles, then falls as he is pulled in by the hungry dead. His screams and pleading go unnoticed by his fellow soldiers, for they have been listening to the cries of the bodies and vultures for hours. Suddenly, a different sound echoes in the distance, a slow rumble which makes the heads of the men flick up instantly. Their bloodshot eyes grow panicked and they begin to yell as they see their death approaching them from the sky. Men try to run in every direction, howling out nonsense sounds of fear, pain and love. As the last drop of sunlit sky falls, disappearing into the night, a high whistle sounds and all eyes are drawn to an object hurtling towards then. For one second before it hits, all the soldiers stop screaming, no vultures cry from the sky and the high pitched kettle whistle ceases. Then suddenly the world erupts in an obliteration of white light and flying bodies.
Chapter Two
Peter Sameth wakes, crying out for his dead friends, sweat drenches his pillow and his arms reach into the darkness for the broken bodies of his comrades. His 85-year-old bones ache with the pain he felt so many years ago and his heart beats a rapid message of fear. He can smell the gunpowder and taste the ash until slowly, his nightmare melts away into dark. Breathing heavily he kicks away the covers and rolls hid feet out onto the rough carpet, searching for his slippers with his toes. Heaving himself out of the small bead he gropes on the small side table for the light. As the harsh glow of the fluorescent bulb penetrates the darkness of his room, Peter sighs, feeling all the years of his life as he stands wearily. His nightly dreams chase away any sleep he hoped of getting.
He slowly descends the stairs of his small townhouse, easing his weight down, step by step. As he passes a piece of paper in a simple black frame he glances at the citation. Annie was so adamant that it should be on show, and he hadn’t had the heart to take it down after she died.
“Peter” she used to say when he grumbled about it being on display, “You’ve served your country. You fought for what was good and true. Everyone should know this and you should be proud.” There was never any point in arguing with his dear Annie, not when she had her mind set on something. If he’d had his way that damned piece of paper would have stayed in the draw along with his meddles. Sighing again he reaches the bottom step and turns into the kitchen.
Peter Sameth wakes, crying out for his dead friends, sweat drenches his pillow and his arms reach into the darkness for the broken bodies of his comrades. His 85-year-old bones ache with the pain he felt so many years ago and his heart beats a rapid message of fear. He can smell the gunpowder and taste the ash until slowly, his nightmare melts away into dark. Breathing heavily he kicks away the covers and rolls hid feet out onto the rough carpet, searching for his slippers with his toes. Heaving himself out of the small bead he gropes on the small side table for the light. As the harsh glow of the fluorescent bulb penetrates the darkness of his room, Peter sighs, feeling all the years of his life as he stands wearily. His nightly dreams chase away any sleep he hoped of getting.
He slowly descends the stairs of his small townhouse, easing his weight down, step by step. As he passes a piece of paper in a simple black frame he glances at the citation. Annie was so adamant that it should be on show, and he hadn’t had the heart to take it down after she died.
“Peter” she used to say when he grumbled about it being on display, “You’ve served your country. You fought for what was good and true. Everyone should know this and you should be proud.” There was never any point in arguing with his dear Annie, not when she had her mind set on something. If he’d had his way that damned piece of paper would have stayed in the draw along with his meddles. Sighing again he reaches the bottom step and turns into the kitchen.
chapter three and more coming soon. watch this space (well, the space above anyway) :)
posted by purple_moon_dancer at 11:10 PM
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