SCEyeballKid

Underground Can you hear it? The music. It permeates everything. It's just on the edge of hearing in every sound you hear. It's in your heartbeat, in your heart. Every time it contracts, every time it releases you can hear the music. Do you know where it's coming from? Can you guess? Can you have any idea what this could be? Close your eyes; think hard of your favourite story or your favourite poem, your favourite song, your favourite piece of music or your favourite dream. Think about it, concentrate on it. Immerse yourself in it and open your eyes and you'll see it; a single thin silver thread leading from your heart. Follow the thread, c

Red tape and Silver threads "I am not the only web weaver in the world." says the spider. He's not moving his mouth, but plucking each sound on the strand of your heartstring. He explains the silver threads, what he calls heartstrings. They're what links people like you to his world. It's how you have your ideas and how he survives. "Now, do you see that one?" he says, gesturing with a long limb to a thread all wrapped in red. He tells you that red wrapping is not hit handiwork. It's blight. There's not really anything he can do about it. It's like weeds. Chop it up all you like but if you can't get it at the source then it'll just come roa

King Puck She thought this was really stupid.  She heard about this on the internet. She was following a map she had found on the internet. She may as well have slapped "what is the matrix?" into a google search. Everybody in this part of the country new Lough Leane, anybody who didn't shouldn't be allowed out on their own, it's hard to miss a bloody great lake right in the middle of the county. And anybody who knew anything about Irish mythology knew that it was one of the places thought to be the passage to Tír na nÓg. Any body of water in Ireland was going to be a gateway to somewhere, the underworld, the fairy world, T&#

Donkey's chance It wasn't exactly being up shit creek without a paddle.  Trigard river was definitely not a creek and was far too beautiful to be full of shit.  But he was most certainly without a paddle. Sitting in a kayak, with no paddle, not far from the Devil's Throat. The Devil's throat is a giant cave into which the Trigard river dissapears underground in the form of a waterfall. The plan had been stupid to begin with. Get as close to the very edge as he possibly could and then steer the boat to safety. It was stupid, but simple enough. Like all of his plans down through the years. Bungee jumping blind folded in New Zeal

Robber Baron. There's something intensely satisfying about tracing a little line from it's starting point just to find out where it leads. There's a certain feeling of accomplishment that goes along with it. Like an explorer who has just discovered a new continent, or a scientist whos has stumbled upon a hitherto undiscovered Element the triumph of knowing that "this line ends here" is something that can be difficult to describe. With that considered, imagine the excitement and the joy of discovering that two lines, with entirely separate points of origin lead to exactly the same place. Of course, even that sense of accomplishment is ma

Wolf tickets Padfoot, twig snap, wind howl. Cold, cold. Grey smell, rough smell. Smell feels like soil and tree bark. Wind in fur, wind in nose. Grey smell, green smells. Made that mark yesterday, still fresh, this place is mine. Windsniff. Scents, many scents. My scent. Green scent, my mark, feels like nettle stings. Grey smell, tree smell. Brown smell, prey smell, smells like shock, smell blood, but old smell, no prey. Pink smell, old smell too, like a bite from a tooth, bad smell, human smell, bang. Clear smell, bright smell, wind. New smell, silver smell, smooth smell, feels like water.  Padfoot, twigsnap, crunchleaf. Scent flows,

The Unfortunate Cup of Tea Brownian motion. That's how the whole dance begins. The random movement of particles suspended in liquid and subjected to heat. There's no pattern to the dance yet, there are not steps.  It's all completely improvised. There's no music, no rhythm, no beat. This is just dancing for the sheer joy of it. Black swirls with white, solid becomes liquid. The heat takes over and the dance really takes motion. Molecules spread, they dance and bounce around each other, just happy to be alive, happy that they are all together. They weave in and out of the bag, in and out of each pore. They dance around the strin

Highway to Hel The Dunmore caves. They're very old. They're very interesting for lots of reasons. They're home to a large population of bats. That's very interesting, bats are endangered and they're fascinating creatures. They were the site of a viking battle in 928 AD, this is very interesting for historians. People still occasionally find bits of viking coins and weapons, this makes it very interesting for archaeologists. The vikings told stories about the place, like any other large hole in the ground the norsemen encountered they thought it was a gateway to Hel, the underworld. This makes it very interesting to folklorists and story

Dig, Dig, Dig. Sarah digged. it's what she always did. It's what the music in her soul did. It's what pulsed through that silver thread the fed directly into her heart. Digging, digging, digging. She didn't know where it was exactly the thread would lead her in the end. But it lead her to each and every single specimen she had found. Allosaurus, Stegosaurus, fragments of various sauropods. Each and every thing she'd found had had the silver thread running straight through it. That's what the music said. Dig. And she'd dig, dig, dig. The whole day through. She'd dig, dig, dig 'cause that's what she had to do. She'd dig up corpolites by t

Pangur Ban and Pangur Du "What are you talking about? Why did you call me Pangur Bán?" Aoife stammered The goat looked confused for a moment "Oh, that's right. That isn't how it works. It's non linear, I keep forgetting this whole nine lives thing is non linear. It get's very confusing indeed." Nine lives. Aoife swallowed. "Why are you talking about nine lives? And what's 'non-linear'?" The goat chuckled, his crown rattled on his horns. "My, you are a curious one aren't you? Though that is why I chose you after all." "Chose me for what? What's going on?" "Tell me, are you familiar with the idea of cosmic balance? That