Fashion Bed Group Casey Daybed

Everthing You Need to Know About Fashion Bed Group Casey Daybed

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Kaitlyn Full Size Bed in Eggshell - Fashion Bed Group - B91W24

This furniture arrives unassembled. Includes headboard, footboard, slats, and rails. The Kaitlyn bed is an adorable addition to a little girl's bedroom. The eggshell finish softens the look of the vertical vines with flowers detailing on the headboard and footboard. The Kaitlyn kids bed frame is drilled to accept a link spring, so it will work with a futon mattress (without a box spring). It also has enough clearance to store a pull out pop up trundle for sleepovers. The Kaitlyn bed frame is a great, space-saving bed for a kids bedroom. Finish: Eggshell Dimensions: 54"x75"


Want to make your garden's summer flowers last all year? Ok, the easiest way is to bring your garden flowers indoor and dry them.

* First: Harvesting Flowers

It is best to cut your flowers in the morning hours after the dew has evaporated from the plants. Once cut, group stems into bunches using rubber bands (pure rubber rubber bands work best) and remove them from the sunlight as soon as possible.

There are definite developmental times which are best for cutting flowers for drying. This can be very specific for different plants or even different cultivators of the same plant. In general, it is best to pick immature flowers (ones that are not completely open) since flowers continue to open during the drying process. If you pick a flower at the time that it looks perfect, it will continue to open while drying, leaving you with a flower past that 'perfect stage'. Most people pick flowers too late. For example, have you ever seen a pretty dried rose? If you really look at it, the flower is still fairly closed. Avoid harvesting flowers too mature in development. Such flowers will generally shed upon drying and will not hold up well in arrangements.

We offer specific picking and growing recommendations for each flower we grow. Just click on any dried flower name on any of our lists to obtain a wealth of specific information including pictures!

* Second: Preserving Flowers

With only a few exceptions, we air dry all our flowers. We simple hang flower bunches upside down on wire (over two miles of it is stretched in our circa 1860 barns). The barns offer ideal conditions: 1) darkness; 2) very good airflow; 3) cool updrafts; 4) perfect (usually) humidity levels. Once you have cut your flowers, it is important to remove them from the sunlight as soon as possible. This, along with drying in the dark, is the most important factor in maintaining good color.

Note:

1)How to Hang Flower Bunches

Suspend a 1/2-inch-diameter horizontal pole or pipe from the ceiling. If fastening hooks into your ceiling or walls is not an option, use tripods or two high-backed chairs to support the pole. A bent paper clip makes a perfect hanger for your bunches. Put newspaper or a drop cloth on the floor under the hanging bunches to catch fallen leaves, seeds, and petals. Hang bunches far enough apart to allow good air circulation.

2) How Long to Hang Flowers to Dry

The drying process takes from 10 to 20 days, depending on the plant. When dried, the stems should snap. You must test the flowers for dryness. Dissect one or two, and make sure the flowers'' insides are thoroughly dry.

Some flowers, such as delphiniums, keep their color better if dried quickly near sources of warm air such as a heater. Large, many-flowered blooms such as dill, fluffy grasses, and Queen Anne''s lace, should be dried upright, not hanging upside down.

3) How to Dry Flowers with Silica?

Silica-gel drying is done in shallow, airtight, plastic (or glass) containers or trays. I dry many flowers at once using a 10- by 18-inch airtight plastic container. Yours need not be that big, but make sure that the flowers aren't crowded. Spread the flowers out, face up, on a 1-inch (minimum depth) bed of crystals. Carefully spoon or sprinkle more silica on top until you've completely covered the flowers with at least another inch of crystals. Drying flowers with single-petal structures, such as daisies, facedown is another technique, but my results have been identical using both approaches. To dry flowers facedown, create a small mound for the flower head, place the flower head facedown on it, and add silica over the flower until it is covered. Flowers can be almost touching, and because similar kinds of flowers dry at the same rate, you may wish to group similar blooms in the same container. Seal the container, and don't disturb it for three to four days.

Remove delicate blossoms very carefully. Shake or brush off the crystals lightly with a soft artist's paintbrush. Leaving flowers in desiccant too long makes them very fragile, so remove flowers right away once you've determined that they're dry enough.

4) How to Use Sand to Dry your Flowers?

Sand must be very fine, clean, dry, and preferably salt free. Sifting is recommended to remove coarse grains and foreign particles. Rinsing the sand in water several times to remove any soil is also recommended. Damp sand can be dried in an oven by placing in shallow pans and baking at 250 degrees for 20 to 30 minutes. Be sure to use only flowers in their prime and process them quickly to prevent wilting.

To dry with sand, place an inch or two of sand in a container; scoop away a small amount of sand to form a depression on the surface; place the flower head upright in this depression and press the sand in and around the outside of the flower to support it. Next, scoop a little sand into your hand and allow it to trickle in a fine stream around each petal. Start with the outer petals and work inward row by row, allowing the sand to build up equally on all sides of each petal so its position and shape are not altered. Flowers dried with sand are fragile so be very careful when removing them from the sand. Notice that flowers must be stored in a strong carton to protect the petals from breaking.

5) Using a Microwave Oven to Dry Flowers

The latest and fastest method to dry flowers is to use a combination of silica gel and a microwave oven.

With the use of a microwave, you can now dry your flowers very quickly. Flowers should be gathered at their peak or else they will turn brown. Use any of the drying agents (silica gel, sand, borax) in a container deep enough to cover the bloom. Leave a 1/2 inch stem on the flower, and place it face up on a 1/2 inch layer of drying agent. Carefully sprinkle enough agent to cover the flower, and place it in the microwave along with a small bowl of water. Do not remove the flowers from the agent immediately, but set them aside for several hours. Listed below are some times for drying flowers in a microwave.

By using air drying and other methods also, many flowers can be preserved for year-round enjoyment. Plan now to include some flowers in your garden for drying, and check nearby fields and road sides throughout the summer and fall for more dried plant materials.

* Third: Care of Dried Flowers

Routine dusting can be accomplished using a real feather duster or hair blow dryer on it's lowest setting.

* Last: Storing and Enjoying Dried Flowers

We recommend wrapping the flowers in newspaper and placing them in a cardboard box. Do not store the box containing the dried flowers where it is unusually damp (some basements) or very dry (some attics). Also, a lot of people think you should never store dried flowers outside (it would be way to cold). This is simply not true. Temperatures are not important. In fact, a garage can be an ideal place for storing dried flowers. Actually, if your home is heated by forced air, the preferred place to store dried flowers would be in a outside building away from the dry heat.

In general, dried flowers should remain out of direct sunlight while you enjoy them in their final state. This will minimize fading over time. We also suggest not to place dried flowers in the path of forced air heat registers. This extremely dry air is very hard on dried flower structure (causes shattering).

Suggestion for use of dried flowers would include wreaths, swags, sheaths, bouquets, and sprays. Simply hanging dried flowers in a room can be very appealing. Also, placing clusters of bunches in a basket, as though you just came in from a garden, is most attractive.

Caution: if you do store your dried flowers outside, make sure you protect them from small rodents and insects (a few mothballs will work).

Finally, I should to say that drying flowers can be addictive! Before long, wreaths will adorn all your doors, and swags will hang from every wall. And they'll all have come from your own garden. Talk about an extended season! You'll soon see why dried flowers are often called "everlastings".

I'm a Chinese girl, I love all beautiful, fashion and interesting things, and I'd like to introduce and display an excellent selection of China fine art, handicrafts, jewelry, toys and gifts, and fashion accessories to you, also give you great suggestions about gift ideas and introduce you the latest fashion trends in China.

fashion bed group

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Full/Queen Bed Frame w/ Wheels By Fashion Bed Group

Restmore 46 Deluxe Series Deluxe Bed Frames with popular convenience features. Includes hardware for attaching a headboard.


Escape from New Delhi

I felt comfortable in India in those days. In fact, I was more at home in India, then in America. I had been there on meditation retreats a half a dozen times before and felt immune to the trial and tribulation that beset every Western tourist. All of the cons were known to me. The liars, cheaters, hustlers, and beggars had no sway with me. I had seen it all before,... at least that's what I thought.

This was is how I felt as I walked around Connaught Place in the center of New Delhi. With little of the usual drama I had secured a bus ticket to Dharamsala at one of the little ticket offices that are so abundant in the center. It was the last ticket. I hadn't planned much in advance, so I was lucky to get it. Finally, I would go to Dharamsala and see if I could meet the Dalai Lama from Tibet. What a great feeling!

Dharamsala Village is the home of the Tibetan Government in Exile in the Indian, Himalayas. Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of independent India generously gave a home to the Dalai Lama and thousands of Tibetan refugees after they escaped Chinese occupation in 1959.

Dharamsala is high in the Himalayas at about 5580 ft. In the 7th Century this area was part of Tibet. "Dharamsala" literally means: "a Pilgrims shelter next to a Temple". An early Chinese Pilgrim Monk recorded about 50 Buddhist Monasteries with approximately 2000 monks as early as 635 AD. Dharamsala's mountain climate is much more suitable to Tibetan who came from the high elevations (9000 ft.) of the Tibetan plateau.

It was an inspiring morning and I walked around Connaught reveling in my knowledge that latter that afternoon I would be on my way to Dharamsala on the night bus.

Connaught Place is in the very center of New Delhi. It is surrounded by massive Western Victorian style buildings modeled after the Royal Crecent in Bath, England. The British administration built Connaught Place to accommodate the elite and the cream of British society. The entire place has a basic circular design and white colonnades encircle the whole of Connaught Place.

They say Connaught Place was Lord Mountbatten's (the last British Viceroy) gift to India. Although it was designed in 1932, Connaught Place was not completed until just before Indian independence.

It was just before noon and I had some time to kill before catching the late afternoon bus. As I was walking around looking for a restaurant, my first predator of the day approached.

"Where are you going?' asked this total stranger with his suspicious eyes and thin beard. Knowing full well that he was planning to hustle me I answered: "I'm looking for a good place to eat lunch."

"Oh, I know a good place!" my new unwanted friend suggested. I played along. Well, maybe he did know a good place to eat, so why not follow his advise. After all, I know his game and it won't work on me! I felt confident that whatever trick he had in mind could be easily thwarted. I was an India alumni.

So, I followed him to this amusingly tacky Indian fast food place with all kinda fake imitation western food. It was a bright and shiny plastic environment with some kinda water buffalo burgers. Beef hamburgers are never sold anywhere in India, since cows are holy.

In fact, if you kill a cow the penalty is life in prison as opposed to the 7 year term for manslaughter. You see these holy cows in the center of every intersection blocking traffic and stealing food at the vegetable market. They seem so relaxed and carefree. You can almost understand why the are believed to be holy.

My suspicious guide had the sharp angular features of a Kashmiri. Indeed, he introduced himself as Amir from Kashmir. The Kashmiri people had been force from their mountain paradise in Kashmir to spread across India in search of work. At one time, the beautiful Himalayan region of Kashmir was the most popular tourist destination of travelers.

This all changed with constant fighting between India & Pakistan over the Kashmir State. The on-going kidnapping and violence had permanently ended the profitable tourist trade and send the Kashmiri people all over mainland India. Delhi had more then it's fair share.

Kashmiris are famous for their ruthlessness and dishonesty in bargaining. The Indian's are intense bargainers, but even they pale compared to the Kashmiri people. Hence, I knew I was in for above average hassles from this guy, but I still felt confident. I was sure that I was not going to fall for any tricks.

I shunned the fast food place and told my Kashmir acquaintance that I was vegetarian and only wanted Indian food. "Oh, you like Indian food!" Amir exclaimed. "Come have your lunch at my place." Suspicious I asked: "How far?" He answered: "Five minutes walking only!" I reluctantly agreed. I thought, well maybe I should give him a chance.

OK, now my little psychic alarms started to go off inside my head! Where is he going to take me? Is it safe? Well I thought, I'll just proceed cautiously. These Kashmiri guys will try to hustle you, but they are not physically dangerous. Besides, it's nice to get involved when you travel and meet the real people. A lunch offer is very generous and I wanted to be open minded.

Naturally, in five minutes we end up at a Carpet Shop. How could I be so stupid? This is the oldest trick in the book. Get the tourist into your shop. I made it clear before entering or having any lunch, that I was not interested in carpets and that I would absolutely not buy one. Amir nodded that he understood.

We washed our hand with a pitcher of water in the street out front that they provided (very important in a culture where you eat with your hands). Then Amir and his five brothers pulled out the classic Indian stainless steel lunch pales and offered me a plate of rice and curried lentils.

It was simple and very spicy, but not free. Although I didn't have to pay rupees for the meal, there was another price. It seemed that these Kashmiri Moslems had built up a little resentment toward westerners. I guess they figured if I wasn't going to buy carpets, then they didn't have to be nice to me. They started to vent their frustrations.

I fielded a barrage of questions about why my government did this and that. "Why do you hate Moslems?" they plied. "I don't hate anyone!" I replied. "I didn't even vote for this administration and I vehemently disagree with their foreign policy." It didn't help to tell them this.

Unfortunately, their emotions had no logic. It didn't matter who I was or what I felt. I was a westerner and represented all of western culture for them. It was tense, but I held my own and was polite. I listen to their complaints and their views. What to do?

Finally, the hustle began. It was almost a relief to change the subject from politics to how can we screw this westerner out of some money.

The conversation got more personal and I revealed that I was on a Pilgrimage to see the Dalai Lama in Dharamsala. "Oh the Dalai Lama." Amir started posturing. He pursed his lips pausing to choose his words carefully: "Well, I just saw him." "Really,...." I replied, disbelieving that a Kashmiri Moslem in Delhi had just seen the Dalia Lama.

"Yes, he's in Ladakh," Amir confirmed. Hmmm, I thought what is he up to. He went on: "If you want to see the Dalai Lama, then you must go to Ladakh"

Now, I was in a quandary. What were the chances that he was tell the truth. I queried more. "Why is he in Ladakh?"

Amir spun out his web. "Oh, he was doing a retreat there,... " and supposably Amir was also with him, because Amir,.... well a is sorta a Buddhist Moslem,.... Yeah, that's right. Amir is interested it all kinds of different things, like say Buddhism,... and bla, bla, bla.

Well, I admit I am gullible. I was thinking that maybe he is telling the truth and maybe I should go to Ladakh,... what to do. Ladakh is a pure Tibetan enclave higher in the Himalayas that just happens to be part of India. It is a long journey to this very remote location.

I argued, that I had all ready bought a ticket to Dharamsala hoping to exit the conversation gracefully. "No problem", say Amir. "All of the ticket sellers are Kashmiri. We can get your a refund and sell you a ticket to Ladakh."
For a moment, I actually believe them. I paused for that trusting human moment, where I believed that they wouldn't lie and that all people are honest. Da! That brief moment that disclosed the innocence of my true nature. My fatal flaw is that I tend to believe what people say, but,.... that only last a moment. It was India after all and these were Kashmiris!

"NO!" I said. Six sets of eyes glared down at me from Amir and his brothers. In a subtle move they positioned themselves between me and the door. Amir looked at me incredulously: "You will not find him in Dharamsala. I told you he's in Ladakh. He will be there another week. The ticket is only twenty dollars. We can sell it to you. Why do you say no? Don't you want to see the Dalai Lama?"

I fell back into my inner wisdom and replied quietly, but with conviction: "You may be right and he may be in Ladakh, but in my heart I feel to go to Dharamsala and I must go by that." Amir did not argue. He could feel the quite force in my argument and knew it was over. It was as if a higher power had spoken through me. They moved away from the door and let me out.

It was an emotionally exhausting encounter. What had I been thinking that I could outsmart India best con men? India has it's way of humbling you.

I felt I was lucky to get out of there alive. It turned out that there was no bus to Ladakh that time of year. It was April and the roads to Lakakh were under snow. There was no way in or out of Ladakh until May.

These Kashmiri guys were willing to sell me a ticket to nowhere. For just twenty bucks, they would happily screw up my plans. Who knows what bus they would have put me on if any. It was inconceivably immoral, but that is what the Kashmiris are known for in Delhi.

The rest of the afternoon past uneventfully, as I strolled the unending Palika Bazar at Connaught Place to cool off. It was a grubby undergrounded air-conditioned market below the center of Connaught Place with lots of colorful Indian shops.

Another Indian Bus from Hell

Before long, I had to make it to the bus stop. Bus stops in India are not necessarily obvious or well marked. It is often just some spot that is designated by the ticket seller at a crossroads. There are no seats or protection from the elements. You just stand there in the dust, smoke, and heat of the afternoon sun and hope that a bus may come sometime.

It was a long wait. The only break in the monotony was an old Indian woman beggar. I gave her the requisite one rupee to leave me alone but she was not content. She lectured me in disgust: "One rupee, one rupee, only one rupee? No chapati, No chai (tea) for one rupee." I would have given her ten rupees had I known, but she was off by the time I figured it out.

Normally, there is a cultural understanding that if you give one rupee the beggar is content. If you try not to give one rupee, they can and will make you regret it. I gave up along time ago trying to ignore the beggars. Let me tell you, it is worth one rupee to get rid of them. If you don't give the rupee, they will follow you to the ends of the earth and hound you mercilessly. It is the beggar code of honor. No one gets away without one rupee.

A few minutes later a taxi pulled up an let out a harried looking gentlemen who was way overdressed for India. His name was Sam and he was a British citizen living in Taiwan. It was his first day in India.

He told me that he had gotten off the plane at 6AM that morning and it had taken all day and many misadventures for him to arrive at this bus stop for the 4PM bus. I had to laugh. His day had actually been worst then mine. My God, India. In India, you can't take a freaking bus without a full day major life dramas!

I was the only other person at the bus stop, but it gave us confidence we had both tickets on the same bus. You never know in India. The odds now seemed much better that we had real tickets for a real bus.

The bus arrived eventually and it was very full. We were the only two westerners and took the last seats in the back. I hadn't taken a bus recently and therefor didn't remember the 'golden rule'. Never sit in the very back.

For the next twelve hours, I bounce up to four feet in the air over some of the bumps in the road and actually hit my head on the ceiling of the bus. It was that dramatic.

Naturally, I didn't sleep a wink. This was not a problem for the Indians. Next to me was an Indian man who had such relaxed neck mussles that he could lay his entire heavy head on my shoulders. Nothing woke him up. He slept soundly even as his head bounced and bruised my shoulder. His hair oil left a permanent stain on my shirt.

The only saving grace of the ride was that it was dark. I could only imagine the horrors of the narrow mountain road to Dharamsala. At one point, the bus stopped totally. Our driver had met another bus and there was a long standoff, as neither would yield the narrow road.

Finally, with screeching metal and sheered side view mirrors the buses squeezed by each other. Indian drivers are either the best or worst in the world. I'm not sure. One thing I do know, is that they are the craziest of all drivers!

Dharamsala Village

Morning found me at Kotwali Bazaar (Lower Dharamsala) where the bus let out, a typical unimpressive Indian hill town a few miles and 1500 ft below McLeod Gunj or Upper Dharamsala. It was not Shangrila and my first impression was depressing in the morning chill.

Hopefully, Upper Dharamsala would be better. I hope a three wheel auto rickshaw up to the Tibetan part. Despite my fatigue, I felt a wave of joy in anticipation of arrival. Dharmasala, was the closest thing to Tibet. It held the residence of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and home to the Tibetan Government in exile.

Many of the famous Monasteries had been re-established in Dharmasala as well as all of the institutes of Tibet's government. This was hardly the attraction. It was the man or myth known as the Dalai Lama that brought me here.

I had read a couple book about the life of the Dalai Lama. These stories were of the dramatic challenges that faced a young boy who was called to lead his people before he was of age. It was of one who survived against the worst fait imaginable and yet still smiles. Just to meet him and receive his blessing would be a great life changing event for me.

Upper Dharamsala was much more charming, then it's neighbor village below. It was like leaving India for Tibet in just 10 minutes. Walking around were many maroon robed Tibetan monks with shaved heads. Most were Tibetan, but there were also many westerners here for Buddhist studies.

Charming little Tibetan restaurants, coffee houses, and shops lined the busy bazaar main street. All around were colorful Gompas (Buddhist Shrines) and Temples. The village was set against the backdrop of the Dhauladhar mountains, hanging sorta on a slope surrounded by Pine & Deodar forests.

First and foremost for any traveler is the daunting task of finding decent lodging when your dead tired. There is always the temptation to take the first place you see and collapse, but I didn't give. I looked at several small guest house. Finally, I came across a quaint guest house, after tramping around the outer forested neighborhoods off the main road.

The Guest House was a little expensive at 300 Rupees ($15.) a night, but it was so clean and quite I gave in without bargaining. Fifteen dollars does not seem like much when you at home working and have money coming in, but it is a lot in India after a couple months of traveling.

Even if you can afford it, there is a travelers duty to budget. After a while in India, you also become psychologically involved by the Indian's hustle to make a rupee. In truth, the group consciousness phenomenon of scarcity hypnotize travelers into arguing over every rupee. For Indians, bargaining is a necessity and a cultural reality. For westerners, it becomes and endless burden that can lead to obsessing over money.

I did not have the worst case of neurotic traveler budgeting. Sometime, I would even have to tell other traveler to try to relax and get a prospective. I would point out: You are arguing over half a penny and he probably needs the money more then we do! It's hard to stay conscious and centered in India.

India may be the most Spiritual country in the world. I don't know anymore, but it is the one country where I will consistently scream my brains out at strangers over a few rupees. I have done this sometimes within an hour of leaving an Ashram after month long meditation retreat. I just can't believe it myself, but that's India.

Before long, I passed out into blissful unconsciousness in my cozy Guest House room. It was one of the nicer rooms I've ever had in India. I got a western style double bed with a thick quilt. My window viewed a forested area with lots of large Pine trees. They were the last sight I saw as I closed my eyes.

Late afternoon, I awoke fatigued, but functional. After a bit of asking around, I was directed to the Dalai Lama's security office. No one could tell me for sure if I could see the Dalai Lama. It seemed that no one knew for sure if he was there in Dharamsala and if he would be accepting visitors.

Oh well, I thought it was worth a try. I went to into the security office to ask. A couple of no nonsense well built Tibetan security men greeted me and ask me to register. They were not very talkative and just handed me a basic application to fill out. After that they took my passport and copied it.

When I finished, they told me to come back tomorrow morning at 10AM. It was all so formal that I didn't realize I was in. I was in! I was going to meet the Dalai Lama the next day! I couldn't believe it. Why would the Dalai Lama consent to see an unknown western traveler???? It was fantastic!

I guess it's all karma. Apparently the Dalai Lama hadn't given any audience for weeks. I just happened to arrive in the right place at the right time.

In preparation, I purchased a Khata Blessing Scarf to give to the Dalai Lama. This is a traditional gift that you give to at such a meeting. It is a silk scarf with the Eight Auspicious Symbols of Tibetan Buddhism woven into it. I'll bet he has a lot of these already. Probably a million. Well, now he will have one more.

I spent the rest of the day exploring the many attractions of Dharamsala. It was a "Little Lhasa" with all kinds of Tibetan cultural offerings. It had a Library of Tibetan Scriptures, a Tibetan Medicine Center, Monasteries, Stupas, Schools, etc. I began in the at Namgyalma Stupa.

Namgyalma Stupa was in the center of town. A Stupa is a round Buddhist monument with a pointed top with prayer wheels that spin around the sides. Buddhist will circle the Stupa spinning the Prayer Wheels with one hand and chanting on a bead mala with the other. It's a meditation practice.

Chanting and spinning wheels can stop the mind and allow the practitioner to transcend the illusion of maya for a glimpse at the silence in between thoughts. It is a very ancient Tibetan Buddhist practice and has a profound transformational effect.

Hunger overwhelmed me and I caught a delicious dinner of Mo Mo dumplings in an upstairs Tibetan restaurant overlooking the Namgyalma Stupa. My head was spinning like a prayer wheel. It takes time to land in a new spot and absorb the local culture. All around me were monks and pilgrims. I wanted to be able to really feel it, but mostly I felt fatigued from travel.

After dinner, there was not much left of me, so I decided to forego all the site seeing and retired to the guest house. It was chili here in the mountains after sunset, and I was not well outfitted for the cold. India is a hot country and I didn't carry much warm clothing. My solution had been to basically wear everything I had in my backpack. The many layers worked.

My Guest House had no heat, but the comforter on my bed was thick and heavy. It was a typical Himalayan quilted comforter of fluffy cotton batting covered in a white cotton gauze. I loved the weight on my body and was quickly off to sleep.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama of Tibet

The list of amazing attributes of the Dalai Lama is endless. At the age of fifteen he assumed spiritual and governmental leadership of the desperate Tibetan people in their worst hour of crisis. China had invaded Tibet the previous year and his people were looking for a miracle to save them.

The next nine years, this young monk tried to coexist with the Chinese invaders, but was finally driven to escape to India in 1959. True to his Buddhist nature he advocated peace over violence in Tibet's hopeless struggle. This was acknowledge 30 years later, as he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

Now, I would meet this spiritual legend. I was more inspired then intimidated. I had an unremovable smile all morning. Ten o'clock found me at the security checkpoint in front of his residence. My name was checked of a list and I had to pass through a metal detector. It made me happy to see the burly Tibetan guards charged to protect the Dalai Lama. I wanted him to be safe.

I got in a line of about 300 people. A good two thirds were Tibetan. They were in a state of emotional catharsis. Some of them could hardly walk from their overpowering feelings. Their tears fell like rain. For most of these people,
this was the pilgrimage of a lifetime. Who knows how far they have come or what they have been through to get here.

Most of the Tibetans wore traditional dress. Women had embroidered blouses covered with a long dark wool dress and accented with a striped apron. Many had beautiful big chunks of deep green Tibetan Turquoise, Red coral beads, and Gold Ghau Prayer boxes for jewelry.

The less colorful Tibetan men varied from western dress to village smock. Some looked as ancient as the Himalayan mountains. All were steeped in reverence and awe.

His Holiness received the Tibetan's first. In a long slow moving procession. He greeted each person individually and gave them his blessing. Some of the Tibetan women collapsed on the ground weeping, some passed out, many wandered by in emotional wonder. It was very moving to see his effect on people. I had never seen such a emotional reaction before. It was profoundly beautiful.

As I moved forward in the line a Tibetan official took my Silk Khata Scarf from my hands and put it around my neck. Apparently, His Holiness already had enough of these and I was to keep it. I was watching the Dalai Lama close now. He had started to greet the westerners in line.

Three, two, one, I was staring into the face of the Dalai Lama of Tibet. It was very intimate. I folded my hands in the Namaste prayer position and bowed. No words were spoken. He looked me in the eye and held my gaze bowing back with folded hands. His eyes sparkled and laughed inside. He was very centered.

I could feel his simplicity. He had no pretention. His good nature and smiling eyes were authentic. I could feel his good will. It was a good will and sweetness attained from a lifetime of service and deep meditation. This was perhaps the first 'real' person that I had ever met. He was the clear embodiment of the Buddha. I had no doubt.

The time was finished and I humbly moved along. It was a silent joy for me to have met him. I felt a quite assurance that if someone like him could exist, then there was hope for humanity.

I followed the other visitors through gate and walked out of town into the mountains. I wanted to enjoy the afterglow of our meeting in nature. My walk took me on beautiful forested hillside paths on the outskirts of Dharamsala. I walked for a long time. Further up, I found a path that led to some cave retreats.

In Tibet, there are many traditions of long meditation cave retreats. Some monks will go into a small isolated cave for 3 years, 3 month, & 3 days. Food would be brought once of day. They would be sealed in with only a small opening and not see or talk to anyone. It would be almost pitch black inside.

As as meditator, my heros had always been the sages, saints, & prophets who did these retreats. I had always had a fantasy of going to a cave myself and making such an effort. I thought it was my ultimate goal in life and considered doing it here.

It was sobering to look in the small cave with a dirt floor used for retreat. I talked with the local Indians and they said that I could hire a person to bring the food once a day as long as I would like to be in retreat.

I had an 'Ah Ha' experience right then and there. I am a westerner. It is not my destiny to sit in a cave on top of a Himalayan mountain. My fantasy of being a great yogi and leaving the world was opposed to my Dharma (life path).

Today, I had met the ultimate upholder of Dharma and he was a simple natural man. A man who lived his truth. Now, it was time for me to live mine. I was ready to go home. I felt complete.

Now I could make my daily life a meditation and going to work could be a Spiritual Pilgrimage. My Dharma was in the west and I was ready to live it totally. Spirituality is inside. You don't need to travel to India or Tibet. You only need to go home.

About Lama Dorje

I am the original Himalayan Trader. I go to Asia to do adventure travel, meditation, & trading. The Himalayan Traders is from the 'Small Is Beautiful' lifestyle philosophy. In Buddhist thought, Right Livelihood is considered essential for the layman's spiritual path. As a Buddhist layperson, I have tried to embody this ideal through The Himalayan Traders.

To support the intrepid spiritual wandering I have created the Himalayan Traders http://www.himalayantraders.com Most of our goods come from the Royal Kingdom of Nepal. In ancient times, large parts of Nepal were Tibetan territories, so the cultures are blended quite alot. The mountain people are generally Buddhist while the people of Kathmandu valley are a mix of Buddhist & Hindu. Out of this rich texture of religion and tribal culture I have been trading for 15 years mostly with small family run business. Come check us out at http://www.himalayantraders.com

fashion bed group

Monday, July 6, 2009

Sycamore Twin Size Headboard in Matte White - Fashion Bed Group - B45023

This furniture arrives unassembled. The arched headboard gently curves up and then back down again. At the center, a spray of leaves rise toward the sky as if they are in a vase. This gives the bed an aura of formality and hospitality. Widely spaced spindles grace the arms and back of the bed. The design is airy and carefree-just like a summer day should be. B45023 Features: Captures the wonder of the fleeting summer season. A unique pattern of leaves is forever frozen in space along the headboard and footboard, whirling from an invisible wind. Finish: Matte White Dimensions: 1 1/2" x 39 1/2" x 49"


Many folks think that because squashes are starchy that they are high on the glycemic index; not true. (It's not the carbs that matter as much as how much they raise blood sugar to digest them. This is the glycemic count and you can learn more about this important distinction at David Mendosa's site.)

Each of these winter veggies are nutritional superstars packed with beta carotene and in the case of butternut, alpha-carotene.

Butternut squash is a vitamin A powerhouse packing in 22,868 IUs per cup. Acorn squash gives you 9 grams of fiber per cup and only 115 calories, 896 mgs of potassium and almost 2 mgs of iron. Once you get passed the "how do I cut this thing?" bit, you are on your way to a super easy, delicious rice or potato substitute.

Pumpkin--the rock star of Halloween decorations--is a potassium heavyweight--containing more than a medium banana and has only 49 calories per cup.

I've chosen Butternut Squash for this month's recipe, it might be my favorite but you can find it peeled in some supermarkets giving you no excuse not to add this to the menu once a month or more in season.

Whichever one you choose you can put the whole thing in the oven as is and do a slow roast. It's done when you can press the skin and leave a dent but not so much so that your finger goes right through. Let it cool then peel it. No muss, no fuss no excuses.

PS-the walnuts and walnut oil not only taste rich but they are rich in nutrients like protein, fiber, calcium, magnesium, phosphorous and potassium.

Winter Squash with Shallots and Walnuts on a bed of Baby Arugula

Ingredients

I'm going unstructured here, exact amounts will vary depending on the size of the squash

1 Butternut squash-cut down the middle lengthwise, leave the seeds for now
1 or 2 small shallots, peeled, sliced
Walnut oil enough keep the cooked squash from sticking to a pan
1 teaspoon or so of sweet butter
Fresh Baby Arugula or Kale leaves, washed, spin dry, chopped if Kale
Olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
Roasted walnut halves

Method

1. Put the cut squash inside down on a sheet covered with parchment or foil.

2. Pour enough water on the pan to cover the bottom barely.

3. Place in a preheated 375 oven til soft but not mushy. For a medium squash this will take about 25-35 mins.

4. When done let it cool. Scoop out the seeds and discard.

5. Scoop the squash pulp into a bowl. At this point you can use it or store it in the fridge. It does freeze well so you have lots of options.

6. Heat a saut pan over medium heat, add the walnut oil and heat til fragrant but not very hot.

7. Add the shallots and cook til golden brown then add the squash and stir to blend.

8. Season with salt and pepper, add the butter if you like, hold in a warm oven or covered off to the side.

9. Heat another pan and add the olive oil, when hot add the arugula, stir briskly, cook just til it's all hot not necessarily cooked through.

10. Season with S & P.

Assemble the dish with arugula around the edges of a shallow bowl. Place a portion of squash in the center, break up a few roasted walnuts over the top and enjoy.

This was my lunch today and it was exceptional.

Chef's note: Keep all of your nut oils in the refrigerator to prevent them from becoming rancid.

Gregory Anne Cox was one of the early female graduates of the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, NY. She spent 20+ years in the hospitality industry, and recently, cooking privately for some of the country's rich and famous on the eastern end of Long Island in the Hamptons, NY where she currently lives with her husband and 4 cats.

Currently Gregory offers teleseminars on Midlife wellness, one on one and group coaching, is an author and speaker on the topic of midlife women's mind and body tune ups and heart health. Her newsletter and blog, both titled The You Revolution, keep subscribers and clients up to date on what's new in feeling and looking better than ever in the second half of life.

Website: http://www.livebettercoach.com
The Blog: http://www.theyourevblog.com

fashion bed group

Monday, April 6, 2009

White Kaitlyn Headboard - Full




Is it really true that teenage girls + media = low self-esteem?

The issue of media's impact on teenagers has generated a lot of interest in the
last decade. Despite contradictory findings, all researchers agree that teenage
girls as a group are focused on their looksespecially on what they dont like
about themselves! Marketing departments and ad agencies spend millions each year
targeting teenage girls who spend much of their hard-earned dollars (and their
parents hard-earned dollars!) on looking good. Although the message of girl
power is prevalent in today's marketing messages, so is the irrefutable idea
that sexy and thin are in!

The dieting industry alone generates 40 billion dollars per year in America. If
you believe diets are just for adults, you will be shocked to learn that a
Harvard study (Fat Talk, Harvard University Press) published in 2000 revealed
that 86% of teenage girls are on a diet or believe they should be on one. Diets
are common among both teens and children. According to the National Eating
Disorders Association, 51% of 9 and 10-year-old girls actually feel better about
themselves when on a diet. As a society, our obsession with thin is relatively
new. Most people (especially teens) are shocked to find that sex icon Marilyn
Monroe actually wore a size 14!

But pick up a fashion magazine today and you'll find models who are thinner than
98% of all the girls and women in America. Turn on a television and see 'sexy'
celebrities such as Shania Twain, Britney Spears and Pamela Anderson baring
their flesh. It is these role models who have become the standard of what is in
vogue in the twenty-first century.

Do Teenage Girls have Low Self-esteem because of Media?

One of the most fascinating shows on self-image for teens was aired on Discovery
Channels Sex Files program (Episode 12: Girl Power). During the show, they
reported on eating disorders on the island of Fiji. In 1995, this tropical
paradise had only 3 percent of girls with eating disorders in 1995.

Then western television programs were introduced, including hits such as ER,
Melrose Place and Xena: Warrior Princess. Three years later, the eating
disorders in girls on the island rose to 15%. A surprising follow-up study
reported 74% of Fijian girls feeling too fat or big and 62% had dieted in the
last monthsurprising in a culture that typically upholds curvaceous women as
beautiful.

Five Ways to Ensure Media Does Not Contribute To Low Self-esteem in Teenage
Girls

Fortunately, parents have a huge impact on a teenage girls self-esteemmore so
than even the media. Thus, there is much we as parents can do to ensure our
teenage girls' self-esteem soars! Here are five helpful parenting tips:

1. Encourage and Support Your Daughters Achievements and Passions. Focus
on what it is that your teenage daughter is good at. If she enjoys math, animals
or singing, support her. Acknowledge the presence of pretty girls in the media
with, Obviously outward beauty is one of her gifts. Youve got many gifts
yourself! Then name these gifts as well as you can.

2. Help your Daughter Get in Touch with Reality. We are bombarded with
perfect idealized models of what a woman should look like. But the fact is less
than 1% of the girls out there will ever become a super model. Besides, no one
can compete with computer airbrushing! Share these facts with your daughter. And
please note that if you are complaining about your own thunder thighs, this
message is going straight to your daughters heart. Make a commitment to raise
your own self-image. No one, including you, is perfect. It is our imperfections
that actually make us human. Having the courage to be imperfect makes our life
easier and much more joyful.

3. Focus on a Healthy Lifestyle The less junk food you keep around the
house, the less you and your family will eat it! Do you and your family a
favorstock up on the healthy stuff and refrain from insisting on second
helpings. If the scale in your home is a bit of an obsession, consider tossing
it out. Instead focus on how well and how healthy each of you feels instead.

4. Contribute to Others Our preoccupation with our own weight can be
positively transformed when we start focusing on others. Volunteerism boosts
self-esteem. Volunteer as a family, bring a smile to others, and you'll all be
reminded of how truly fortunate you are.

5. Encourage Dad to Pay Attention in a Positive Way Help Dad understand
how detrimental well intentioned teasing about weight or looks can be. Encourage
him to spend time with his daughter focusing on all the things that she is great
at.

It is sad that many teenage girls and women believe that they need to be someone
other than who they truly are. It is time to come clean for ourselves, for the
race of woman and for our children, by beginning to love the person we areflaws
and all. Embracing our imperfection gives us the opportunity to see all the
awesome things about ourselves: to acknowledge that we do have nice eyes, nice
breasts, nice legs, nice whatever! And as we stop hiding our flaws, suddenly our
psychological zits will become the beauty marks that make us stand out from the
crowd.

Kelly Nault, MA author of When Youre About To Go Off The Deep End, Dont Take Your Kids With You inspires moms to put themselves firstfor the sake of their children. She shares time-tested tools that motivate children to want to be well behaved, responsible and happy! Sign up for her free online parenting course here.

You are free to print or publish this article provided the article and bio remain as written and include a link to http://www.mommymoments.com as above.

2005 UltimateParent.com - All rights reserved.

fashion bed group

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Fashion Bed Group Adelaide Full Headboard

Clean-lined and airy, Adelaide interprets a classic brass bed style for modern bedrooms. This headboard offers simple geometry with thick corner posts framing widely spaced spindles in a neat rectangular pattern. Accented by round tops and bottoms at each connection point, the look is both well tailored and substantial. The bed's dramatic flair comes at the top--between the globe finials bows a long rail that draws the eye with its sweeping sense of graceful movement. To highlight the design, the overall bed color is a cool matte Tungsten Gray, while the top arch and finials contrast in Antique Brass. Touches of brass are also scattered here and there across the entire piece for an authentic feel of age and wear. Available in twin, full, queen, and king sizes, this full model measures approximately 55-1/4 inches wide by 3 inches deep by 57 inches high. Fashion Bed Group backs the headboard with a 10-year limited warranty. --Kara Karll


Raising kids is very expensive and requires a lot of savvy money planning. It is estimated that the cost to raise one child for 18 years is over 250,000 dollars, not to mention college and their first car. For parents on a tight budget, there is hope. With just a few money saving strategies here and there, you can save thousands.

Save on Children and Babies Clothing

If you are a parent, you know how fast kids can grow out of clothing and shoes. In some cases, a child can outgrow items before even wearing them. In this regard, there is no sense in buying expensive clothes every few weeks. Consider shopping at the end of each season for next year's wardrobe. You can often find name brand close outs for a fraction of the cost. If you are worried about fashion trends, don't worry, some things never go out of style. This is the perfect time to buy socks, underwear, or pajamas.

Kids Toy Discounts Online

You can often find popular kids toys at a much cheaper rate by shopping online. Consider auction sites or discount toy sites. Many companies now buy overstock items and offer them at great prices online. Since these companies do not have to worry about maintaining a store front, they often have lower overhead. Many companies will pass those savings onto their customers. Another great option about shopping at home is the time you save by avoiding long check out lines and trips to the store. Many large companies like Toys R Us and KB Toys have a large selection online, and they even have special deals for online customers only.

Use Book Exchange Program

If your child is an avid reader, you understand that the average paperback now costs over five dollars. If you child can read five or six books a week that can be a large expense. If you join a book exchange program, you really save a lot of money. Many used book stores offer this option. You can trade in the books you have already read and then use the credit you receive to purchase new books. In most cases, it will take at least two trade ins for one new book. You might also consider swapping books with other parents. There are a few sites online that offer a swapping service that is nationwide. You list the books you have and then search through other peoples books to find what you are looking for.

Start a Pass It on Club
Pass it on clubs are beginning to gain popularity across the country. These clubs are made up of a group of parents who have kids in all different age and size groups. The group will meet once every few months and swap gently used clothing that their children no longer wear. Rather than throwing away perfectly good clothing you can recycle it to the next person and help build a greener planet.

During these tough times, you need to be able to save on your children's needs and for babies coupons and kids coupons, simply visit CouponTrunk.com. On this site, the world's leading manufacturers post their latest coupons, discounts, and deals so you can get what you want at the fraction of its retail cost.

fashion bed group

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Abbey I Futon - Nutmeg

Spice up any bedroom, family room, recreation room, or study with this transitional design futon. Note the clean lines created by the use of wood spindles. This item exudes strength, power and beauty. Abbeys classic design will attract the traditionalist in us all. Then again, the Candy Cane arm, will inspire those with a more modern whimsical approach to life as well, creating additional opportunities to step-up consumers who wish to flavor their acquisition with style. The all wood Abbey Futon is also available in two distinctive finishes, Caramel or Nutmeg. Features: Exudes strength, power and beauty. Abbeys classic design will attract the traditionalist in us all. All Wood Futon Finish: Nutmeg Dimensions: 36? × 82¾? 31¾? Matress sold separately.


(or: The Narration of Professor Greenwood and Mr. Durant)

Notre Dame in Pairs France

The Narration of Professor Greenwood and Mr. Durant

Part One of Three

Mr. Durant and Professor Greenwood were two scholars who lived around the turn of the twentieth century (but the specific time we are talking about is now: 1917) a little less than a hundred years ago in Paris, France; Mr. Durant was once the head of a faction of scholars and Professor Greenwood taught courses at the Paris University.

Up to this point, the time this story too root, both men had lead what you could call: simple and quiet lives; although within the city of Paris, they were well-known by most scholars, and somewhat heard of by the general public, but little more. This was all soon the change, for Mr. Durant and Professor Greenwood for they had found a scarce manuscript, dating to 200 BC, in the cellars of the once lived in house of Victor Hugo (whom was a senator in Paris in the mid 1850s).

"You know," said Mr. Durant to Professor Greenwood in Mr. Durant's library, "this might prove useful in many ways."

"I read it last night," said the professor, "I agree it could be sold for quite a lot of many."

"What should we name this unnamed script?" asked Mr. Durant.

"Yes, it should have a name according to its contents," answered the Professor.

And so they both sat back in the library looking at the ancient manuscript, written in an old Albanian dialect, that had existed perhaps back as far as 7000 BC, rewritten in 200 BC, in a clearer form of the same language, one both Mr. Durant and Professor Greenwood were proficient in.

The professor had been studying languages all his life, and the secrets of the unknown world of the old ones, or otherwise known as the Shinning Ones, the Angelic Renegades, and he knew they had kept records of their magic spells, and Azaz'el, one of the twenty leaders of the two-hundred renegades, taught humans some four-hundred years before the Great Flood had taken place, he taught them how to kill with magic swords and other weaponry. The book explained Azaz'el's methods, spells, secrets. It indicated any living thing could be conquered but first had to gather the energy to do so, and the power of this secret energy within a person could see into both worlds, could withstand the harsh elements of earth and the cosmic universe, could even time travel, and see what ideas were in an enemies mind before the enemy implemented his plans-this is document, or book, or manuscript was really a libretto of spell binding words and lines of words.

Mr. Durant read and reread the book studied the charts of spells in it, for a long time, and today he had brought his ideas with him to the meeting with the professor. And said to the Professor the book should be called, 'Azaz'el's Ancient Set of laws for Warfare.'

"That just might work" said the Professor.

"By implementing these spells, and learning the secrets of the Angelic Renegades of that time, we can be able to make things come our way, without any interference of governments perhaps," said Mr. Durant to the Professor.

They both decided to test this new idea out, but first Mr. Durant wanted to find the proper place to implement his experiment, it was 1917, the Great War was taking place. They were to go to the Western Front, known as Flanders, towards a town called Ypres, the area around Ypres was known as Salient, he picked this area out because it was fought over between 1914 to the end of the war in 1918, unknown of course at this moment in time, except it was ongoing. They both hid in Ypres Cloth Hall, which had been burnt in 1914.

It was on the 30 of July, 1917, Mr. Durant and the Professor found an odd, and isolated little farm near Passendale Church, a small village, five miles north east of Ypres, to rest the night away for the battle which would take place the following day. And so it did, and it stretched out until November 10, and the main thing was, for the professor and Durant, was to read this book with its enchantments, and to mentally build an invisible wall around Ypres so the Germans would not enter it, for it was close to the battlements. And it was said afterwards, Ypres should have been ransacked, but never was, and no one knew why, but the Germans seemed to have erased it from their minds. Yet the Passchendaele church was totally destroyed by shellfire.

All this seemed too perfect for both the Professor and Mr. Durant. Yet they both went back to Paris, hired a young couple to assist them in another experiment, the couples name were Mr. and Mrs. Sexton.

"Yes sir," said Mr. Sexton, "I understand you will be using me and my wife and our apartment for your experiments," and both Mr. and Mrs. Sexton signed an agreement to work for several weeks with the Professor and Mr. Durant, hoping for whatever success they were seeking might help them financially and it did, and all four lived in the apartment for the mean time.

The Professor late in the evening of October 25, 1917, sat quietly in a chair while the young couple was sleeping, and told Mr. Durant what he had done while he was away to London for the past week.

"I'm sure you'll say I should not have done what I did, but all the same, I did cast one of the spells in Azaz'el's volume onto the sleeping couple, each night while they were asleep.

"But why, they'll become aggressive, if not warlike?" said Mr. Durant to the professor.

"He is mentally becoming more aggressive already, and his muscular tone is even becoming more noticeable, as is his reflexes quicker, I saw him yesterday purposely bump into a stranger, trip a kid who was running, he is looking for trouble," said the Professor.

"From what you've told me," said Mr. Durant, "Mr. Sexton will be either a madam or a warrior soon!"

"And so will his wife," commented the Professor, adding, "until I saw the victory in Flanders, I didn't really have confidence in this book of spells, and warfare, and our little experiment now has also added to my faith in the book."

-On the sixth week, Mr. Durant and the Professor moved out of the apartment and back into their homes, paying the Sexton's the $1000-dollars they had promised. They were soon to find out through, in December of 1917, there was a slew of strangling in Paris, most in the Lexington Gardens. Reports about this appeared in the daily newspapers, that a young man and woman had killed seven strangers, some old, a few young, and even a school aged student.

On another occasion, in January in 1918, the Professor and Mr. Durant, having coffee at Caf de Flora, read about this couple running over a crippled man on crutches with his horse and cartage, and not stopping to help thereafter.

It was Mr. Durant that finally put two and two together, connecting the killings with the carriage incident, saying it was to the carelessness of his partner this was taking place, claiming it was the Sexton couple.

"Extra! Extra! Killer kills again near the Eiffel Tower!" A paperboy, by the name of Jack Stars, was yelling.

When Mr. Durant heard this, he grabbed a paper, paid the boy, and he and the professor looked it over, a police officer was now killed, beat over the head with a blunt instrument, and his head cut off.

The Professor was speechless, trembling with a cup of coffee in hand at the outside caf.

"It's that spell of his, everything inside Sexton's head is mad, he will kill his wife soon I expect, I am afraid for you and me!" said the Professor.

"Calm yourself old friend, you shouldn't have done what you did, but you did, and now we must find a solution; it is simple as that."

"I suppose I was too excited to think things through, or to wait for you to come back from London, so I cursed him several nights in a row. We must get to Mrs. Sexton; I do believe she is not as inundated by the spell as he," commented the Professor.

But Mrs. Sexton would not be there when the Professor and Mr. Durant would go to find her at her apartment, already she was gone, had packed her cloths and on her way to the train station, among the things she took was the written spell the Professor had chanted to her night over night. She was going to London to kill her mother, sell her property, and bring it back to her husband.

As she was walked to the station, Mr. Durant and the Professor had ridden by in their horse and carriage. They were feeling sorry for her, and Mr. Sexton was out at a caf eating his lunch.

At the station, she hurried towards pier four, and boarded her train; saw an older lady with her grandson, her heart pumping malice. However, she found her seat, and sat quietly, the old lady and young lad across from her.

The child, a boy of perhaps eleven seemed to have caused a great deal of excitement, it was his birthday and was headed to London to visit his mother and father, the grandmother was caring for the child, he was talking up a storm.

"Good heavens!" said Sally Sexton, to the boy, now sitting alone, "it would seem you should have some cakes and bread to eat, you look famished."

"No, I'm too excited to be starving Miss, but..." before the boy could say a word, Sally was coming back with a cake in her hands for the boy, gave it to him, and Sally sat back in her seat, and fell to sleep."

The Grandmother returned, which seemed to have been an hour or so she was gone, and returned with some bread and water, the boy had eaten what Sally had given him already and he likewise had fallen to sleep, like Sally. After another hour, at last the grandmother woke him up, handed him the bread, and Sally woke up at the same time, started walking around the train, she seemed to have disappeared until the train stopped, and she was seen walking through one of the doors, and then again disappeared. The grandmother had found out, by noticing crumbs from a cake the boy had eaten something when she was gone, given to her perchance by this strange woman who sat across from them-that at least was her best guess, and the one she would tell he police for the boy was very sick, several days later, the London paper read, "Boy dies, poisoned on train from Paris...!" And a poor sketch of Sally was drawn, for the newspaper.

News of this slaying spread quickly, even to the newspapers in Paris.

"This is getting out of hand," said Mr. Durant to Professor Greenwood, both eating at the Lipp's caf.

Suddenly, the Professor was attacked by a pain in his chest.

Just then, Roger Anderson, a novelist from America joined them, said, "I wish I knew this case better, about the so called killing couple, I could write a novel about them, I think this woman is the same one that helps her husband kill their prey in city here, what do you scholars think?"

They both nodded their heads as if it all was Greek to them, continuing to eat their chicken soup, as Roger sat next to them reading the paper, adding, "I know you fellows can't come up with any kind of guess who they are, but I suggest you purchase a gun, and plenty of bullets, in case they try to strangle you two old coots." And he laughed.

-A few hours later, Sally Sexton arrived at her Mother's home in London, met her mother, and they both chatted around the kitchen table. Then she put the few things she had brought with her in a small bag, in the guest room. And she talked aloud to herself, saying: "Now my dear husband, you shall see how a killing should be handled!" And then she walked downstairs again to talk with her widowed mother.

Soon after the Professor and Mr. Durant talked to Roger Anderson, they went to a nearby gun shop; they had been fed a good idea. Each of them purchased a gun, loaded it, and began their second trip back to the Sexton apartment, they were going to put an end to this needless killing (the reason they did not go to the police was they did not want to implement themselves, hence, end up in old age, living their last days behind bars).

The Professor felt the only way to destroy Mr. Sexton was to wait at his apartment, and when he came home to shoot him, Mr. Durant would be watching for him, as the Professor hid behind the second floor corner in the corridor, saying to Mr. Durant, "If we leave this to the police, they will make mistakes and somehow this all will never be settled."

When Mr. Sexton entered the hallway, all was very quiet; Mr. Durant motioned to the Professor, he was coming up the stairs, all of a sudden a rat ran across the hallway, and the Professor thought the noise was Sexton, turned a bit to peer down the hallway, saw Sexton, Mr. Durant hidden under an doorway arch, both of them now looking at one another, and the Professor shot his gun. Then he walked closer to look at the dead man, his face shocked him, he looked in his fifties, and he was actually in his early twenties.

They pulled the body into the apartment, as they had heard footsteps coming up the stairway to the hallway, and so they quickly went out and down the back fire escape.

Meanwhile, Sally was pacing the house, wondering exactly when she was going to kill her mother. She was an only child and knew she'd inherit all there was to inherit. She heard her mother sleeping, buzzing away on her bed, snoring that is, then it came to mind, why kill her with a knife, when she could burn the house down, and her in it, and collect the insurance, save her time from selling the house, she always had insurance, so why not.

"It's done!" she said, and the house burnt to the ground, her mother yelling from the bedroom window, and Sally hiding behind a tree outside.

Suddenly she heard fire engines, and she ran towards the house screaming: "My mother's in there, my mother's in there!"

"What happened?" said one of the firemen as they started to hose the house down with water. Sally was dumbfounded for words, and then a man shouted orders. In a few minutes the house was burnt to the ground, as several firemen carried long hoses to the house.

For a while everyone was busy, then everything was quiet, the fire burnt and filled the area with smoke. One could see rats and cats and dogs running about. A few of the firemen tried to enter the house but it was useless, too much fire and smoke. And after the fire, the body was dragged out of the remains of the house. For her, for Sally it seemed only to be a great adventure, but when she found out the house had lost its insurance policy for lack of updating its insurance payments (evidently the mother was lacking in funds), she said nothing, and simply returned to Paris on the first train she could find out of London, almost indifferent about the whole mess.

"She must also be killed," said the Professor to Mr. Durant, "whenever she returns and most likely it was her who set that fire in London last week. I bet she is in town now. To bad they did not put two and two together and figure out Mr. Sexton was the real killer, thus, we'd not have to do the job of killing her would we?"

Mr. Durant nodded his head in agreement.

Early the next morning, both Mr. Durant and the Professor sat idle in their carriage by Mr. Sexton's apartment building waiting for Sally. In spite of all the havoc she caused in London, and now finding out her husband had been murdered, she still felt she was the cleaver one of the two, perhaps just not finding the proper use of her deadly skills. But her mind would never be the same, and the Professor knew this.

What Sally liked the most was that she was becoming famous, or infamous, only that she'd like to have had her picture taken for the papers, instead of being called the unknown woman with the famous husband.

A few people showed up for the funeral of her late husband, to include Mr. Durant and the Professor. Actually afterwards they had tea and coffee at a local caf.

"How was your experiment?" she asked he Professor, innocently.

"You don't really know?" he commented.

"Now how could I," she said with a smile.

"I would be honored to know," she asked again.

Then appeared Lord Hamcater and sat with the threesome.

"I've been wondering Professor Greenwood where in heaven's name have you two been? Have you not heard of the murders going on in Paris; it is the biggest thing you will ever have a chance to talk about."

As they sat and looked at one another speechless, a new person became interested in the conversation, and stood close by listening, it was Doctor Hucklebone, Mr. Durant's family doctor. He could see the worry on his face, and wondered what had made him that way; he was mostly a happy, unmarried bachelor.

"I get the feeling," said Lord Hamcater, "you've discovered something big, and you are keeping it from us at the club, which you have not been for six months or so?"

"Lord Hamcater, you are an old friend are you not," said the Professor, "and I must be careful of course, so that what I've learned doesn't get out of hand."

"But perchance, we can all benefit from it, tell me what you are up to?" asked Lord Hamcater.

Then Dr. Hucklebone, took note of the woman's name wrote it down, and felt he'd perhaps visit her later, find out what this experiment was all about that they were talking about, he himself knew Mr. Durant and the Professor wrote many articles for the magazines in Paris, and perhaps he could pickup something out of this, and make a few bucks.

That evening, Professor Greenwood and Mr. Durant sat cozy around a fire in a hearth at Mr. Durant's home, trying to figure out their next step.

"Conceivably we should let in Lord Hamcater on our secret, he knows a lot of people that could help us, we really do not know what we are doing," said Mr. Durant to the Professor.

"Well, we end up with the same problem, he will call the police, and we get it now for murder, and no one can prove she did a thing, and I doubt Hamcater will want to be in on this anyhow. He will not care how we created madness in a woman's head, madness she doesn't even know she has. And if I feed this into his head, we got the same trouble all over again. It is best we destroy the book, it is cursed, and perhaps we are also."

"Sometimes," said Mr. Durant, "I think you are right, but should we not be fearful of her, she is in Azaz'el's world is she not, and she can't stop on her own now no matter what, I am a coward, you must be brave!"

-About this time, Doctor Hucklebone took matters into his own hands. He was about the age of the Professor, sixty or so, a short, but large boned man, he arrived by carriage to Mrs. Sexton's apartment. He climbed the stairs, a bit warns out at the top, knocked at her apartment door, and she let him in, after a short introduction.

"I wonder," said Dr. Hucklebone trying to find out what the Professor wanted with the Sexton's, "just what were these two fellows up to with you Mrs. Sexton?"

But he of course only cared about the experiment so he could make money; it was really no concern to him what carelessness he did, and at this point he simply needed to put together the puzzle.

"I'm not sure what he did," commented Sexton, "only that he lived here for six weeks, gave us some money-my husband and I, and hummed at night some chants, which seemed to give me some dreams that brought me back to a period of time where there was a great huge angelic war of sorts, the main person being called by the name Azaz'el, and in my dreams, he commanded a group of angels that taught humans how to war, to kill, such things like that. This Azaz'el one day found me, and made me his dragon, he took me from my husband and made love to me, he became a giant eel, and ate all those around me as if they were sheep-such are my dreams and seemingly reality."

"It seems to me it was more on the order of a nightmare than a dream," commented the doctor.

"I remember in one of these dreams, several angelic beings held a meeting, they wanted to stop Azaz'el, but he was too powerful, and it seemed like the Professor continued to chant at night his spellbinding words, lines of words, and it got to me and I had to dress like those folks in the days when they wore tunics. But I became more powerful by the name being fed me."

The doctor was quite taken in by all this; he drank down the tea she offered slowly.

Meanwhile, Professor Greenwood and Mr. Durant continued their conversation, leaving out their old friend Lord Hamcater. It was the following day the police found Doctor Hucklebone with a broken neck laying sideways in his carriage. And it was at this juncture, Sally Sexton, was starting to figure out, that the Professor had inserted some kind of demonic being inside her by magic spells by way of enchantments, or so it felt. One that seemed she was forced to allow being subjected to its character-will of its invader. As if the demon needed a shell to act out his evilness, and she was it. What little control she had was surfaced seldom, and raised to the surface by chance, and timing, when the invader was off guard.

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

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(or: The Narration of Professor Greenwood and Mr. Durant)

Notre Dame in Pairs France

The Narration of Professor Greenwood and Mr. Durant

Part One of Three

Mr. Durant and Professor Greenwood were two scholars who lived around the turn of the twentieth century (but the specific time we are talking about is now: 1917) a little less than a hundred years ago in Paris, France; Mr. Durant was once the head of a faction of scholars and Professor Greenwood taught courses at the Paris University.

Up to this point, the time this story too root, both men had lead what you could call: simple and quiet lives; although within the city of Paris, they were well-known by most scholars, and somewhat heard of by the general public, but little more. This was all soon the change, for Mr. Durant and Professor Greenwood for they had found a scarce manuscript, dating to 200 BC, in the cellars of the once lived in house of Victor Hugo (whom was a senator in Paris in the mid 1850s).

"You know," said Mr. Durant to Professor Greenwood in Mr. Durant's library, "this might prove useful in many ways."

"I read it last night," said the professor, "I agree it could be sold for quite a lot of many."

"What should we name this unnamed script?" asked Mr. Durant.

"Yes, it should have a name according to its contents," answered the Professor.

And so they both sat back in the library looking at the ancient manuscript, written in an old Albanian dialect, that had existed perhaps back as far as 7000 BC, rewritten in 200 BC, in a clearer form of the same language, one both Mr. Durant and Professor Greenwood were proficient in.

The professor had been studying languages all his life, and the secrets of the unknown world of the old ones, or otherwise known as the Shinning Ones, the Angelic Renegades, and he knew they had kept records of their magic spells, and Azaz'el, one of the twenty leaders of the two-hundred renegades, taught humans some four-hundred years before the Great Flood had taken place, he taught them how to kill with magic swords and other weaponry. The book explained Azaz'el's methods, spells, secrets. It indicated any living thing could be conquered but first had to gather the energy to do so, and the power of this secret energy within a person could see into both worlds, could withstand the harsh elements of earth and the cosmic universe, could even time travel, and see what ideas were in an enemies mind before the enemy implemented his plans-this is document, or book, or manuscript was really a libretto of spell binding words and lines of words.

Mr. Durant read and reread the book studied the charts of spells in it, for a long time, and today he had brought his ideas with him to the meeting with the professor. And said to the Professor the book should be called, 'Azaz'el's Ancient Set of laws for Warfare.'

"That just might work" said the Professor.

"By implementing these spells, and learning the secrets of the Angelic Renegades of that time, we can be able to make things come our way, without any interference of governments perhaps," said Mr. Durant to the Professor.

They both decided to test this new idea out, but first Mr. Durant wanted to find the proper place to implement his experiment, it was 1917, the Great War was taking place. They were to go to the Western Front, known as Flanders, towards a town called Ypres, the area around Ypres was known as Salient, he picked this area out because it was fought over between 1914 to the end of the war in 1918, unknown of course at this moment in time, except it was ongoing. They both hid in Ypres Cloth Hall, which had been burnt in 1914.

It was on the 30 of July, 1917, Mr. Durant and the Professor found an odd, and isolated little farm near Passendale Church, a small village, five miles north east of Ypres, to rest the night away for the battle which would take place the following day. And so it did, and it stretched out until November 10, and the main thing was, for the professor and Durant, was to read this book with its enchantments, and to mentally build an invisible wall around Ypres so the Germans would not enter it, for it was close to the battlements. And it was said afterwards, Ypres should have been ransacked, but never was, and no one knew why, but the Germans seemed to have erased it from their minds. Yet the Passchendaele church was totally destroyed by shellfire.

All this seemed too perfect for both the Professor and Mr. Durant. Yet they both went back to Paris, hired a young couple to assist them in another experiment, the couples name were Mr. and Mrs. Sexton.

"Yes sir," said Mr. Sexton, "I understand you will be using me and my wife and our apartment for your experiments," and both Mr. and Mrs. Sexton signed an agreement to work for several weeks with the Professor and Mr. Durant, hoping for whatever success they were seeking might help them financially and it did, and all four lived in the apartment for the mean time.

The Professor late in the evening of October 25, 1917, sat quietly in a chair while the young couple was sleeping, and told Mr. Durant what he had done while he was away to London for the past week.

"I'm sure you'll say I should not have done what I did, but all the same, I did cast one of the spells in Azaz'el's volume onto the sleeping couple, each night while they were asleep.

"But why, they'll become aggressive, if not warlike?" said Mr. Durant to the professor.

"He is mentally becoming more aggressive already, and his muscular tone is even becoming more noticeable, as is his reflexes quicker, I saw him yesterday purposely bump into a stranger, trip a kid who was running, he is looking for trouble," said the Professor.

"From what you've told me," said Mr. Durant, "Mr. Sexton will be either a madam or a warrior soon!"

"And so will his wife," commented the Professor, adding, "until I saw the victory in Flanders, I didn't really have confidence in this book of spells, and warfare, and our little experiment now has also added to my faith in the book."

-On the sixth week, Mr. Durant and the Professor moved out of the apartment and back into their homes, paying the Sexton's the $1000-dollars they had promised. They were soon to find out through, in December of 1917, there was a slew of strangling in Paris, most in the Lexington Gardens. Reports about this appeared in the daily newspapers, that a young man and woman had killed seven strangers, some old, a few young, and even a school aged student.

On another occasion, in January in 1918, the Professor and Mr. Durant, having coffee at Caf de Flora, read about this couple running over a crippled man on crutches with his horse and cartage, and not stopping to help thereafter.

It was Mr. Durant that finally put two and two together, connecting the killings with the carriage incident, saying it was to the carelessness of his partner this was taking place, claiming it was the Sexton couple.

"Extra! Extra! Killer kills again near the Eiffel Tower!" A paperboy, by the name of Jack Stars, was yelling.

When Mr. Durant heard this, he grabbed a paper, paid the boy, and he and the professor looked it over, a police officer was now killed, beat over the head with a blunt instrument, and his head cut off.

The Professor was speechless, trembling with a cup of coffee in hand at the outside caf.

"It's that spell of his, everything inside Sexton's head is mad, he will kill his wife soon I expect, I am afraid for you and me!" said the Professor.

"Calm yourself old friend, you shouldn't have done what you did, but you did, and now we must find a solution; it is simple as that."

"I suppose I was too excited to think things through, or to wait for you to come back from London, so I cursed him several nights in a row. We must get to Mrs. Sexton; I do believe she is not as inundated by the spell as he," commented the Professor.

But Mrs. Sexton would not be there when the Professor and Mr. Durant would go to find her at her apartment, already she was gone, had packed her cloths and on her way to the train station, among the things she took was the written spell the Professor had chanted to her night over night. She was going to London to kill her mother, sell her property, and bring it back to her husband.

As she was walked to the station, Mr. Durant and the Professor had ridden by in their horse and carriage. They were feeling sorry for her, and Mr. Sexton was out at a caf eating his lunch.

At the station, she hurried towards pier four, and boarded her train; saw an older lady with her grandson, her heart pumping malice. However, she found her seat, and sat quietly, the old lady and young lad across from her.

The child, a boy of perhaps eleven seemed to have caused a great deal of excitement, it was his birthday and was headed to London to visit his mother and father, the grandmother was caring for the child, he was talking up a storm.

"Good heavens!" said Sally Sexton, to the boy, now sitting alone, "it would seem you should have some cakes and bread to eat, you look famished."

"No, I'm too excited to be starving Miss, but..." before the boy could say a word, Sally was coming back with a cake in her hands for the boy, gave it to him, and Sally sat back in her seat, and fell to sleep."

The Grandmother returned, which seemed to have been an hour or so she was gone, and returned with some bread and water, the boy had eaten what Sally had given him already and he likewise had fallen to sleep, like Sally. After another hour, at last the grandmother woke him up, handed him the bread, and Sally woke up at the same time, started walking around the train, she seemed to have disappeared until the train stopped, and she was seen walking through one of the doors, and then again disappeared. The grandmother had found out, by noticing crumbs from a cake the boy had eaten something when she was gone, given to her perchance by this strange woman who sat across from them-that at least was her best guess, and the one she would tell he police for the boy was very sick, several days later, the London paper read, "Boy dies, poisoned on train from Paris...!" And a poor sketch of Sally was drawn, for the newspaper.

News of this slaying spread quickly, even to the newspapers in Paris.

"This is getting out of hand," said Mr. Durant to Professor Greenwood, both eating at the Lipp's caf.

Suddenly, the Professor was attacked by a pain in his chest.

Just then, Roger Anderson, a novelist from America joined them, said, "I wish I knew this case better, about the so called killing couple, I could write a novel about them, I think this woman is the same one that helps her husband kill their prey in city here, what do you scholars think?"

They both nodded their heads as if it all was Greek to them, continuing to eat their chicken soup, as Roger sat next to them reading the paper, adding, "I know you fellows can't come up with any kind of guess who they are, but I suggest you purchase a gun, and plenty of bullets, in case they try to strangle you two old coots." And he laughed.

-A few hours later, Sally Sexton arrived at her Mother's home in London, met her mother, and they both chatted around the kitchen table. Then she put the few things she had brought with her in a small bag, in the guest room. And she talked aloud to herself, saying: "Now my dear husband, you shall see how a killing should be handled!" And then she walked downstairs again to talk with her widowed mother.

Soon after the Professor and Mr. Durant talked to Roger Anderson, they went to a nearby gun shop; they had been fed a good idea. Each of them purchased a gun, loaded it, and began their second trip back to the Sexton apartment, they were going to put an end to this needless killing (the reason they did not go to the police was they did not want to implement themselves, hence, end up in old age, living their last days behind bars).

The Professor felt the only way to destroy Mr. Sexton was to wait at his apartment, and when he came home to shoot him, Mr. Durant would be watching for him, as the Professor hid behind the second floor corner in the corridor, saying to Mr. Durant, "If we leave this to the police, they will make mistakes and somehow this all will never be settled."

When Mr. Sexton entered the hallway, all was very quiet; Mr. Durant motioned to the Professor, he was coming up the stairs, all of a sudden a rat ran across the hallway, and the Professor thought the noise was Sexton, turned a bit to peer down the hallway, saw Sexton, Mr. Durant hidden under an doorway arch, both of them now looking at one another, and the Professor shot his gun. Then he walked closer to look at the dead man, his face shocked him, he looked in his fifties, and he was actually in his early twenties.

They pulled the body into the apartment, as they had heard footsteps coming up the stairway to the hallway, and so they quickly went out and down the back fire escape.

Meanwhile, Sally was pacing the house, wondering exactly when she was going to kill her mother. She was an only child and knew she'd inherit all there was to inherit. She heard her mother sleeping, buzzing away on her bed, snoring that is, then it came to mind, why kill her with a knife, when she could burn the house down, and her in it, and collect the insurance, save her time from selling the house, she always had insurance, so why not.

"It's done!" she said, and the house burnt to the ground, her mother yelling from the bedroom window, and Sally hiding behind a tree outside.

Suddenly she heard fire engines, and she ran towards the house screaming: "My mother's in there, my mother's in there!"

"What happened?" said one of the firemen as they started to hose the house down with water. Sally was dumbfounded for words, and then a man shouted orders. In a few minutes the house was burnt to the ground, as several firemen carried long hoses to the house.

For a while everyone was busy, then everything was quiet, the fire burnt and filled the area with smoke. One could see rats and cats and dogs running about. A few of the firemen tried to enter the house but it was useless, too much fire and smoke. And after the fire, the body was dragged out of the remains of the house. For her, for Sally it seemed only to be a great adventure, but when she found out the house had lost its insurance policy for lack of updating its insurance payments (evidently the mother was lacking in funds), she said nothing, and simply returned to Paris on the first train she could find out of London, almost indifferent about the whole mess.

"She must also be killed," said the Professor to Mr. Durant, "whenever she returns and most likely it was her who set that fire in London last week. I bet she is in town now. To bad they did not put two and two together and figure out Mr. Sexton was the real killer, thus, we'd not have to do the job of killing her would we?"

Mr. Durant nodded his head in agreement.

Early the next morning, both Mr. Durant and the Professor sat idle in their carriage by Mr. Sexton's apartment building waiting for Sally. In spite of all the havoc she caused in London, and now finding out her husband had been murdered, she still felt she was the cleaver one of the two, perhaps just not finding the proper use of her deadly skills. But her mind would never be the same, and the Professor knew this.

What Sally liked the most was that she was becoming famous, or infamous, only that she'd like to have had her picture taken for the papers, instead of being called the unknown woman with the famous husband.

A few people showed up for the funeral of her late husband, to include Mr. Durant and the Professor. Actually afterwards they had tea and coffee at a local caf.

"How was your experiment?" she asked he Professor, innocently.

"You don't really know?" he commented.

"Now how could I," she said with a smile.

"I would be honored to know," she asked again.

Then appeared Lord Hamcater and sat with the threesome.

"I've been wondering Professor Greenwood where in heaven's name have you two been? Have you not heard of the murders going on in Paris; it is the biggest thing you will ever have a chance to talk about."

As they sat and looked at one another speechless, a new person became interested in the conversation, and stood close by listening, it was Doctor Hucklebone, Mr. Durant's family doctor. He could see the worry on his face, and wondered what had made him that way; he was mostly a happy, unmarried bachelor.

"I get the feeling," said Lord Hamcater, "you've discovered something big, and you are keeping it from us at the club, which you have not been for six months or so?"

"Lord Hamcater, you are an old friend are you not," said the Professor, "and I must be careful of course, so that what I've learned doesn't get out of hand."

"But perchance, we can all benefit from it, tell me what you are up to?" asked Lord Hamcater.

Then Dr. Hucklebone, took note of the woman's name wrote it down, and felt he'd perhaps visit her later, find out what this experiment was all about that they were talking about, he himself knew Mr. Durant and the Professor wrote many articles for the magazines in Paris, and perhaps he could pickup something out of this, and make a few bucks.

That evening, Professor Greenwood and Mr. Durant sat cozy around a fire in a hearth at Mr. Durant's home, trying to figure out their next step.

"Conceivably we should let in Lord Hamcater on our secret, he knows a lot of people that could help us, we really do not know what we are doing," said Mr. Durant to the Professor.

"Well, we end up with the same problem, he will call the police, and we get it now for murder, and no one can prove she did a thing, and I doubt Hamcater will want to be in on this anyhow. He will not care how we created madness in a woman's head, madness she doesn't even know she has. And if I feed this into his head, we got the same trouble all over again. It is best we destroy the book, it is cursed, and perhaps we are also."

"Sometimes," said Mr. Durant, "I think you are right, but should we not be fearful of her, she is in Azaz'el's world is she not, and she can't stop on her own now no matter what, I am a coward, you must be brave!"

-About this time, Doctor Hucklebone took matters into his own hands. He was about the age of the Professor, sixty or so, a short, but large boned man, he arrived by carriage to Mrs. Sexton's apartment. He climbed the stairs, a bit warns out at the top, knocked at her apartment door, and she let him in, after a short introduction.

"I wonder," said Dr. Hucklebone trying to find out what the Professor wanted with the Sexton's, "just what were these two fellows up to with you Mrs. Sexton?"

But he of course only cared about the experiment so he could make money; it was really no concern to him what carelessness he did, and at this point he simply needed to put together the puzzle.

"I'm not sure what he did," commented Sexton, "only that he lived here for six weeks, gave us some money-my husband and I, and hummed at night some chants, which seemed to give me some dreams that brought me back to a period of time where there was a great huge angelic war of sorts, the main person being called by the name Azaz'el, and in my dreams, he commanded a group of angels that taught humans how to war, to kill, such things like that. This Azaz'el one day found me, and made me his dragon, he took me from my husband and made love to me, he became a giant eel, and ate all those around me as if they were sheep-such are my dreams and seemingly reality."

"It seems to me it was more on the order of a nightmare than a dream," commented the doctor.

"I remember in one of these dreams, several angelic beings held a meeting, they wanted to stop Azaz'el, but he was too powerful, and it seemed like the Professor continued to chant at night his spellbinding words, lines of words, and it got to me and I had to dress like those folks in the days when they wore tunics. But I became more powerful by the name being fed me."

The doctor was quite taken in by all this; he drank down the tea she offered slowly.

Meanwhile, Professor Greenwood and Mr. Durant continued their conversation, leaving out their old friend Lord Hamcater. It was the following day the police found Doctor Hucklebone with a broken neck laying sideways in his carriage. And it was at this juncture, Sally Sexton, was starting to figure out, that the Professor had inserted some kind of demonic being inside her by magic spells by way of enchantments, or so it felt. One that seemed she was forced to allow being subjected to its character-will of its invader. As if the demon needed a shell to act out his evilness, and she was it. What little control she had was surfaced seldom, and raised to the surface by chance, and timing, when the invader was off guard.

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

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