When Death is Crowned: Dream.

The deep depths of snow filled the dome with snow. It was filling up fast. What is going on? Black slowly approached the snow and caught it on fire. Soon everything was on fire. The depths of Heather’s subconscious looked just like this. She was happy here. This was her home. And it was.

Everything had taken form, it molded into her house, she knew not of what was going on. But her first thought was to run to her bed, and that is what she did. This was strange. She is controlling her dream. Could she control other things in her dream? She picked up a vase full of dead flowers and dropped it “Don’t break!” It fell to the floor, clattering around spilling the flowers on the floor. The noise echoed down the rustic looking hallway, with pictures hanging on its sides. She noticed something bazaar about the images that the frames closed in…

…Taking a step toward them, in one she could see a man pulling her up a cliff, into a white room. She looked to the image opposite. It was crooked, shaking actually. It held and image of her running away from the missile strike. Pieces of rubble flying everywhere, missiles raining from the sky, as far as she could see. Everything was being destroyed. A security van outside exploded right next to her, she didn't seem to feel the pressure of the explosion, in fact she seemed protected from it. The house was leveled behind her; there is no way that anyone came out of this alive. When the tremor hit, she watched herself fall to her knees. She couldn't help. The yellow school bus was flying toward Heather at an alarming speed. She knew what was about to happen. Heather reached her hands out and the bus lifted up.

A Helicopter she hadn't noticed flew over her head, It opened up, a man showed his face, He had a dark complexion, he was strong. He pulled out a rifle of some sort, got heather in his cross hairs, and fired. She watched as they flew away. She watched Heather’s eyes roll to the back of her head. Heather was fighting this, and making it worse. Her eyes closed at that moment. She lay there. The bus fell sideways to a horrifying stop.

She was startled back into reality with the sound of the door behind her opening. The light was shining. She only saw the shape of a female walking into the house. Wind blew from behind, as the door was forced shut. Leaves were rustling around the foyer. She was looking at the shoes of the woman in front of her. She wore Black converse with white laces, green corduroy skinny pants, and a white t-shirt. This woman had a nice sense of style.

It took her a moment. The face of the woman was familiar. She had darker toned skin, with longer face, a nose piercing, and a smaller sized pointy nose. What made her realize what she was looking at was the brown, wavy hair. She was looking at herself.

She asked the obvious question, “Where did you come from?” She didn't want to sound stupid.

Heather replied with exactly what she thought she would say “Hanging out, you know.”

“I really have no clue actually. I was just watching me, or you, or whoever it was, in a memory of mine. As though it was a movie! That’s not normal” She wondered if wherever she was sleeping, if she was sleep talking.

The other heather walked over to the kitchen, and opened the cupboard, “Why is the tea always gone?” She was disappointed with this, well, they both were.

“I need some coffee, or something to get me thinking.” She walked over to the coffee maker, conveniently already brewed fresh coffee. “Would you like some?”

The other Heather nodded, “Yes please, with cream, no sugar.”

“I know how you like it.” She said, smiling. She kind of liked this whole idea. She looked out the window, there was a field covered in tall grass, all leading up to a dead, tree.  There was someone next to it, a man, in a black tux, bow-tie, and a mask?

“Heather, hand me the camera, please.” She said this with urgency. She wasn't sure about this.

The camera was in her hands, in no time. She zoomed in on the character, who seemed to be getting closer to the window, seemed to know she was there. She focused on the mask, the white mask. And diagonally painted in red was the word “Fear.” It was working. The masked, man seemed to be moving toward the window at a slow pace, but he wasn't moving his legs. He was gently moving over the ground, as though hovering. This scared Heather, and Heather. They both panicked.

She felt a pull, a tug, as though she was on the end of a rope, a dog collar. She started to get dizzy beyond belief. Actually, everything that’s happened has made this dizziness feel refreshing, a normal feeling. Everything started to fade out. The other Heather was in a corner of the kitchen, sitting on the floor hugging her knees. She was crying. Banging on the window is the last thing she could take. Heather started screaming “GO AWAY! PLEASE!” She was sobbing. The sound of shattered glass behind her was the sound that queued her.

She was lying on the floor of a dark void of emptiness. There was nothing she could do to assist Heather with the horrors from above, or down below. Where was she? Where is she? Who is she, Heather? Who is Heather? She had so many questions, and as far as she knows she is lying 50,000 feet above sea level, on a cliff in Sweden. She knew so much about Heather, but she knew nothing about herself. She needed questions answered now. And she didn't’t know who to trust. Not even herself. 

When Death is Crowned: Incorporating circles of circular knowing.

Aton knew he only had a few seconds to react. Grabbing his grappling gun, launching it into the floor. Was she escaping? Did she know? Or is this simply a mistake? Either way he needed to save her, and he needed to do it fast. Wind was rustling through his hair, he jumped.

 She had about twenty feet on him. He needed to make this quicker. He was slacking. He folded his arms and made himself as dynamic as possible, and began his hot pursuit on Tracy. That was her name. He remembered that just now. That’s what they told him to call her. But he knew better. You don’t capture an American woman, erase her memory, and then call her by her real name. This woman was going to be an assassin.

His thoughts were racing as he finally caught up to her. He threw his arms around her. She was cold, lifeless. Was she dead? That’d suck. But either way he needed to save himself. He wrapped his legs around her, and took ahold of his grapple. And suddenly…

…It jerked. HE ran out of slack. And of course, He dropped her in the process. He reached into his coat and pulled out his whip. As quickly as he could he roped her up, and started pulling his weight, and her weight up the grapple. He heard voices from above. He was in trouble. And so was she.

“Where is she?” Trevor demanded while leaning over a table, maps sprawled out. “I know that she isn’t dead, she’s way too powerful to die by a simple missile strike like back in New York.”

It had been weeks since the incident. Nobody knows where she is yet. They already had an identity scan through the nation. And she hadn’t shown up. They suspected the Chinese. It’s almost too obvious. They are arming they’re submarines with nukes and surrounding the United States as they spoke. They were prepared for total warfare. And America was not prepared at all.

One of the Analysts spoke up, “Sir, maybe it’s the Russians. They haven’t communicated with us in weeks. We tried contacting them and there was no answer.”

That had to be it. He had no leads at the moment. He was getting desperate. He had a paint brush, a canvas, and a deadline; but he was missing paint. “Get a satellite pointed at them! We need to get David here immediately!” He pulled out his phone and dialed the number.

Ringing, Ringing, Ringing, and more Ringing. He yelled into the phone “DAVID YOU BETTER PICK UP THE PHONE OR I’LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED!” He took a deep breath.

The phone clicked, a soft voice said hesitantly “Hello?”

“David. This is Trevor Volting. And we need you to the headquarters immediately. We need you to hack Russia.”

The voice spoke again with a little more confidence, “Hold on. I’m working on something…”

Trevor could hear button mashing, Video games. This made him furious. “PAUSE YOUR FREAKING GAME, PUT THE CONTROLLER DOWN, AND GET YOUR SORRY BUTT DOWN HERE AS SOON AS YOU CAN! Got it?”

He heard clattering. David picked up his phone off the floor. Probably scared him out of his mind, chicken, “Y-y-yes sir! I’ll be there as soon as I can, Sir!”

Trevor spoke with a soft polite voice this time, “Thank you.” then hung up. Slipping his phone into his pocket he looked around at everybody in the control room. They were all motionless, literally, except for Timothy. Things were getting strange around here. And he knew then, how great each decision he makes, will impact the life of humanity. Little did he know though that every decision he makes will greatly impact the fate of the galaxy, and the stars beyond it.

When death is crowned: Intro to Timothy Shelfer

Timothy Shelfer, was one of the of the United States best undercover agents. At a towering five feet, five inches, he was pale as a vampire.  Weighing in at 260 pounds, makes up for it in muscle. He put down his pen, signing his name for the hundredth time this morning, he’s only been clocked in for half an hour. Leaning back, thinking about his tiny office, he just moved into it from a cubical a week ago. His phone startled him. Strange, He wasn't easily scared. He reached forward and picked the phone up out of its cradle, took a breath, and spoke.

“Timothy’s office, this is…Timothy”. He said this awkwardly. Somehow he made it to be a field agent. 

A lower voice spoke “Tim, we have your cousin captive. We know what you do, and we know what you’re capable of. Find us and we can negotiate” this voice was muffled. He had no idea who this was. So he asked the obvious question.

“Who is this?”

“Timothy. We know your intelligent, so just find us.”

Tim had no idea what was going on. He had control of his life. Everything was going right, he had a girlfriend, Susan. Who was an amazing girl, always lifted him up, and moved him forward. She was beautiful in his eyes. He had a well-paid Job. A Running car, it was paid for. Everything was going for him. This phone call pulled him out of his comfort zone, threw him in some mud, and kicked him in the face a few times. He forgot he was still on the phone.

“Look I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have a cousin. And-“

The voice interrupted “Her name is Heather Shelfer. Ring a bell?”

Timothy was speechless, this made his skin crawl. “I don’t have any cousins…that I know of”

“Look Tim…” This bothered him. No one calls him Tim. “… We've done the research. What did you Mom tell you about your Dad’s murder?”

Timothy thought this was getting strange, but he answered. “My mother told me that My Dad was murdered alongside my uncle…why?”

“Your uncle’s name was Teddy Shelfer. He was a private investigator. He worked for only those who offered the right price. He was a bounty hunter. But Tim, your uncle was married, he was murdered during his wife’s pregnancy, who died during the birth. But the baby survived.”

This was news to Timothy. He has a cousin. He was starting to question the evil in this phone call. “So how old is this cousin? Is it a ‘He’ or a ‘she’? are you going to hurt-“

The voice interrupted again, how rude, “You have exactly forty-eight hours to be walking in this room, or we will pump her full of cyanide. It will be easy. The clock starts now” Timothy sat there in his suit, lounging in an office chair, realizing he has a cousin in captivity. He needed to save her. He spoke back into the phone 

“I’ll be there, you can count on it” But he realized that he was talking to nobody.  “How rude!”.

Just then his secretary walked in, she looked nice today. Sandra was a short, darker toned, brunette. She walked smoothly up to his desk, with an envelope in her hands. She set it down gently.

“Someone just delivered this, for you. They said you’d better open it, its ‘urgent” She said it in quotation marks, in a lower voice.

Reading it out loud he was taking it all in “You will find us in your home, we made sure your girlfriend won’t be coming for the dinner date. So you can come in with no one else. Sit down at a table with us and we can discuss the matters.”

Sandra had a puzzled look on her face, he tried covering it. “It’s just a joke from a friend. Don’t worry about it. But I need to go.” He stood grabbing his suit coat and putting it on, trying to stay cool. He started making his way past her. Once he got past the wooden door he started running, down the hallway, to the elevator. He smashed the ‘down’ button enough times to please his conscious. The doors opened finally, and he got in and pressed the ‘Ground Floor’ Button. He was whispering under his breath.

“I am Timothy Shelfer. I am five foot, five. I am a 38 years old. I don’t have any parents, I don’t really care one way or another. But one thing I do care about, is this cousin of mine, that I have never met. And I hope that I will be able too. Cause I am a good person.”

                                                 

                                                                       1.2

Timothy was wrong. He was not a good person. He spent his childhood in foster homes bullying the kids in school, two of the kids committed suicide. Once he got to high school, he got involved with Drugs, drinking, and sex. When he was 19, he robbed a convenience store with his friend. When the cops showed up, he grabbed the money, shot his friend in the knee, and took off running. He spent that night in an alley along one of the side roads in New York City. He made a hobby out of making friends and then betraying them. He made money while doing that. And that’s all that matters.  At the age of 23, his reputation came back to bite him. A group of friends who he betrayed found him, raided his apartment, and beat him. A few of them stayed up later to turn him into the cops, where he stayed for 8 years. He was released early for good behavior.  When he got out he was 31 years old. He then joined the military. He quickly worked his way up the ranks. They saw potential in him; at the age of 34 they asked him to be a field agent. He agreed. He had organized a few, clean, successful, assassinations on terrorists. He had become something great. He is a hero. But one thing he had learned, is that you’re enemy’s define who you are. But he, Timothy George Shelfer, had crowned death herself. 

Over-exsessive posting

I know so many people who post literally everything on facebook. And they do it...for what? These statuses big me. Its like "on a date with my hubby. I love him so much" so. Was the date not good enough? Or did you have to make sure that everyone knows you love him? You...why does it matter to all 250 of your friends. The only person that needs to know you love him is...well...him. And Shouldn't you prove that you love him by giving your all to that person? Instead of bragging about it on facebook?


You are probably saying "I don't care what this person thinks" but then why do you care to post it to facebook (or twitter or whatever)? It can actually end up with broken hearts all around.
Divorce rates skyrocket as we advance in technology, and im positive there is a connection there.


Once I was at a restraunt and I saw what appeared to be a husband and wife. The husband was sitting there holding his wife's hand. And in her other hand She was on her smartphone. after half an hour he said something. And she just said she was chatting with someone. I watched him sit back and pay for the food. And she puts down her phone. They let the restraunt arguing.


As a photographer I find myself around a lot of places. I was downtown Charlevoix this past summer and I saw a Couple holding hands and being cute. I thought it was adorable. They kissed. and hugged after a while, but during the hug, the guy had is phone in his hand, looking at it around her back. I might be too quick to judge, but thats an awful thing.


Thats all i have to say.
-A conciderate human being