I’m thinking of raising chickens in a Rez, in addition to starting a garden. But a lady Facebook friend of mine suggested that I raise flightless ducks. Ducks are heartier than the chicks. Instead of chicken eggs, duck eggs. I would have to take pictures around my house and consider my options thoroughly.
Keeping the birds alive would present a challenge. They must be enclosed in a fence between my house and shed. Eight and twenty-six feet is adequate for the birds.
Four to five feet high, should keep the dogs out. But it won’t stop the jackasses and drug addicts from killing and stealing the ducks. One duck goes for twenty dollars a pop. And of course kids climbing over the fence, trashing the place and killing the birds. Then there’s windchill and minus fifty Celsius temperature.
To grow a vegetable garden, I may need a greenhouse. And pick the right crop since the growing season would be short. Heating that damn thing would be another hurdle. Two things will happen, a vandalized greenhouse and the meagre crop taken or destroyed.
With the lack of respect. Vandalism and theft are common in Attawapiskat.
On my closing note, it’s better to work through the hurdles that life tosses at you, with humour and taking things one day at the time.
They say you can’t stare at a demonic entity or monstrous entity, and you will be dead before drop to the group. To quote from the bible. “Men’s hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth:”
I haven’t asked my father if that evil bastard is seen in daytime. But what I do know, that whenever its close, disquiet and terror blooms within you. You lose sanity and strength.
And there are more than one that lurks the earth.
A hideous appearance and ravenous hunger. Hands that had skin bitten off.
When a man grows gaunt, loses all sense, and driven insane by starvation and transforms into a monstrous entity, the moment he bites off his lips and finger tips, skin on his hands and tearing chunks of skin from his torso.
From distance he looks like a man. Granted that it was once one.
Again how will things translate to modern times? I believe more of them will make an appearance. When food becomes scarce and not available, due to war and famine. I shudder to think if a woman turns into one of them. Ripping skin from her torso.
In the winter of 2015, one of them was at the edge of town. If it hadn’t turn the other way around. It’s safe to assume that we would be all dead.
A difference between a cannibal and entity that devours flesh of people. A cannibal is still a human, while entity is a demonic beast on two legs. Cannibalism is frowned upon by the elders of my culture. It shouldn’t be tolerated or celebrated.
When food is not available, men and women will resort to cannibalism. Mothers will eat their babies, brothers will eat their siblings. It’s been said that cannibalism is a form of judgment.
On my previous blog post, from what I had gathered about the entity, the beast is no Sasquatch.
The Canadian North is brutal and harsh, bush law dictates survival. With the lands occupied by monstrosities.
A being that was once a man. Few felt its presence and lived. From its terrible countenance, size and presence. You would go insane and die soon afterwards. To vanquish such a creature is to dance with death. Alone you can’t kill it, you’ll need protection and fortitude. If you’re thinking of using a high calibre weapon take out the demonic brute, you’ll fail.
Unless God Almighty had set aside and sanctified a man pure in heart, for such a task. You’ll fail. An old style medicine man or a shaman had to prepare himself. Shamans and medicine men had good sense and understood the need to vanquish the terror that devours mankind.
Its aspects are demonic and monstrous. How will translate in modern context? How will the fiend be killed? With the old style shamans and medicine men extinct or extremely rare.
The upside of modern technology lights would keep it at bay.
So basically one would have to separate the nuggets of information from bull crap. I wouldn’t trust a practitioner of voodoo; they would attempt to harness the beast or steal its power. Making things from complicated to worse.
For a man of God to kill one of them, he would have to be sanctified and strengthened by God himself. And I’m not talking about Black Hebrews, Hebrew Roots Movement, Holy Rollers, or a Catholic Priest. But an actual man of God. He would have to ply the tools of his trade and calling.
A little update, I may need to correct a few things. As my memory goes, some entities and cryptids are too damn dangerous talk about.
For quite a while I have been trying to figure out the name of the cannibalistic beast. It seems to me that most of the legends and folklores are forgotten. And now first nation legends have become sanitized, like modern day fairy tales.
It’s a bit rough, but here it goes.
A trapper or a warrior caught in a snowstorm. Hunger and cold sets in, he becomes deranged from starvation. He bit off his lips and fingertips, tearing skin from his own torso. To devour it, nothing can satiate him, for he is beyond help. He wanders aimlessly, never to be seen again.
The Swampy Cree elders of old say, an encounter is fatal, you can’t go near one of these things. Due to his towering size and monstrous strength, his mere presence alone can make a person drop to the ground; shaking, as you lose consciousness. When you see him from far away, only to think that it’s a man walking. But when the beast draws closer, tendrils of fear and insanity claw their way in, death soon follows.
A warrior’s courage, sanity and strength leeches away, as it draws nigh. For no man can overcome him. Many have died from fear, many fared worse. Villages laid in ruins.
His scream shakes the frozen earth as people fall to the ground dead.
He smashes the cabin walls and roofs open, tossing the roofs aside. To pluck and gather each victim. The creature tear off the limbs and feast on the dead.
Only a shaman and medicine man skilled in the craft, can overcome and vanquish the demon god.
Others such as he, continue to wander about. As few elders retains the knowledge of their existence. He cannot go where there’s lighting. For he hates and fear bright lights that intrude his domain, and bars his way from human flesh. From a great distance, the beast will hurl branches, trees and blocks of ice at the bright lights.
A man with a stout heart, startled from his sleep, will quake in his bed, hoping and praying that the evil will not come. For a modern town will become his snack bar.
This is my ROW80 sunday check-in for October 24, 2016 as usual I’m late. Two days ago, my dog broke his swivel clasp and sat by the door. Waiting for me to open the door or expecting a snack.
- My writing goal is somewhat oozing along.
- Sprucing up my long handwriting aka cursive writing.
- Continuing along with my reading the passage by Justin Cronin.
- Tweeting has gone nonexistent.
I have been digging around with regard to gold and silver stackers, and how to get rid them without hemorrhaging mullah. Let me be clear, I’m not an expert in precious metals. Just offering my opinions and sporadic observations of the ongoings in a first nation town. In my region, gold and silver is useless up in a first nation reserve, we’re used to paper currency. Depending on how much gold and silver one has. It would be a nightmare to transport gold and silver from a remote community to another.
One. A remote first nation community is only accessible by plane. Two. The closest pawn shop is in Timmins, Ontario. Three. Finding a reputable gold dealer is difficult. Four. Hopping on the plane, one way to Timmins is expensive. Five, hauling gold and silver around is tedious work. Six. There are dishonest pawnshop brokers, coin dealers and gold dealers.
It’s possible to sell precious metals to a scrap dealer, but one must know where to sell and who will buy it. I will have to dig for more information on various topics including this one.
Back to the writing, sometimes going with the flow can alter one’s WIP timeline along with other things. Precious metals and various stuff seem to pop up. Anyways regarding my female character, I finally figured out which kind of flaw to give to her. World building has more layers than an onion.
I corrected several typos, one on my late friend’s memorial post and another my draft regarding bigfoot aka dude in the woods.
I opened another can of wet dog food by mistake, even though there’s all ready one sitting in the fridge.
After reading disturbing information online. I concluded not to order any dog food from WalMart. China has a reputation of being the counterfeit capital of the world. And most of the goods come from China. Fake rice, fake medication, fake gold coins, fake dried peas and so forth. For food items, I’ve figured that it’s safer to order from somewhere else and buy locally. Electronic devices and other useful items are fine.
I will order wet dog food from site called well.ca. Sped is more of the dry kibble with broth mixed in type of fellow.
I will admit that I am not good in posting a remembrance post. But then again, a memorial, a remembrance of my late dear Friend Bill Stubbs. I don’t know where to begin.
We message each other over facebook and chit chat on the phone. Topics varies, from everyday life to writing. His forte is mystery and suspense, my forte is science fiction, with other things sprinkled in.
I kept odd hours while Bill was a morning writer. Originally I had planned to invite Bill to the Writer’s Night Quills facebook group.
Even though Bill and I have different views and opinions. We agreed, and we disagreed on things. We remained good friends. Last time I chatted with him was on March 5, 2016.
Sometimes life deal us with a bad card. Over the summer, I often think about him. Hoping things would mellow out for Bill and he would be home writing. His wife/widow kept me informed regarding Bill.
Here’s to you old man, it was my honour and great privilege to be your friend, you have been a faithful friend. I will miss you.
Your best friend Barry.
This is my late midweek check-in for Wednesday October 19, 2016 and it’s Thursday. To be fair, I missed Sunday’s check in due my internet outage. Well anyways on to business.
- I still have yet to prepare for NaNo.
- I’m getting to the good stuff on the Passage by Justin Cronin.
- I dug up several one of my old WIP in the short story folder of my Scrivener folder.
- I’m real behind in tweeting on twitter
While sipping hot tea, I was thinking about the female character. The FMC in one of my WIP is the older woman, while the MC is younger, ergo I had him to age him up. I used several pics as a general idea, a snapshot of the female characters. Sansa Stark from Games of Thrones, Maergery Tyrell game of thrones and one chick I can’t seem to remember her name.
My internet went down on Saturday, cutting me off from the digital world for two days. I wasn’t able to participate Saturday’s write in. With nothing to do, I continued reading, well listening to the Passage by Justine Cronin. The internet came back to life around afternoon.
The previous write in in tiny chat room was interesting. We had a Wrinkly Old Dude, Flash Gordon showing his shrivel up cigarette, and one loud black dude cussing.
This upcoming Tiny Chat write in, the room would be secure and private I think, less hassle from freaky lurkers.
I admit that I haven’t been writing for several days now, Helen one of my long FB friends is in the middle of writing a short story starting from last week, I believe.