Saturday, November 26, 2011

Grandma's Story #1: Pages 1-5

Grandma Dovie Walker
About a year ago I discovered some old handwritten stories my Grandmother Walker wrote back sometime before the Great Depression. It was a real treasure find for me, especially since I had never gotten the chance to meet her - she passed away just a few years after my father was born. You can read the story behind the story here: Grandma's Story #1.


I decided to compile the first 5 pages into one to make it easier to read. In the future I'll keep with this format, transcribing 5 pages at a time until I have the entire story transcribed..


If you see any errors or have comments about my interpertations or transcriptions please pass them along in the comment section below.


THANKS!






[PAGES 6-10]

2606 words
Mrs. Earl Walker
Holcomb, MO
Route #1

I’m here to tell you the story of my life, beginning back when I was a small child. There were only 4 of us in my family: my father, mother, my half-sister Irene and me, Cary. It filled me with sorrow to see how father treated mother. He would go away from mother and stay for 3 months at a time. She was only 15 when they married, and father was 19.

Mother was a Christian girl and she was good to father. They were married for a year before I was born. Father took to his spreading spells, and when I was about 3 years old he came home after being gone for several months with a little girl. She was about 1 year old, and he claimed she was my half-sister, Irene.

Mother was compelled to raise her against her will. I couldn't see how mother could stand for this. It wasn't long before I learned to hate Irene. She was such a liar. When she was 8 and I was 10, she made me her slave. I felt like father loved her more than he did me. I had to do as she said or father would whip me with anything he could find. Many times my back would be bruised where he had beaten me with his boot. Mother surely didn't love me; otherwise she wouldn't have stood for it, especially since Irene wasn't her child. 

Friday, November 18, 2011

A Prophecy Yet Fulfilled – Part 1

Erik the Viking by: Mitkov



Einmánuður had come and gone, and in its wake left the weight of eight cruel months, testing the guile, strength, and resolve of every man, woman, and child in lower Völangard. What was supposed to be a time of renewal and growth during the spring and summer months was transformed into a time of desperation, feuds, chaos, and war.

Dellingstad, a once prosperous and stable gunnstead has been turned on its ear, its population nearly doubled, swelling to over nine thousand in a matter of months. Its lands flooded with refugees from the southeast. Disease infected flock, depleted crops, a virulent sickness killing the weak, and the added tensions ever rising amongst the other clans had put a great deal of strain on its people, the land, and most notably it's leaders.

A tradition for as long as time had recorded, Chieftains, Raumadurs, Gōdi, Wolf Guards and other invited guests had gathered from across the gunn in Dellingstad's great feast hall, at the table of its leader Hrethel, to celebrate Hafnarfjörður; fall festival. Celebrated on the last day of Haustmánuður to mark the autumn equinox, it was a day normally reserved for the celebration of harvest, and to call upon Wôdan to gain inspiration and wisdom to get through the lean times of the winter months ahead. With Hod's Sons soon to arrive, the day held an even greater significance with the fate of the gunn wavering in the balance given the already lean times that the summer months had provided thus far.

Despite the meager accommodations, Hrethel had decreed that Haustmánuður would be a day of celebration, and that no man, woman, or child under his gunn would go hungry that day. Those not gathered in the great hall, had gathered in other halls within Dellingstad proper and throughout the gunn controlled territories. Even farmsteads out of the reach of Dellingstad proper had envoys sent to each and every home to insure his will be done, determined that none of his flock went to bed  hungry that night. His decree notwithstanding, there was still a feeling of unrest and uncertainty amongst many of those gathered for the great feast. An unsettling feeling of what was yet to come.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Chosen To Serve - Deathwatch

Deathwatch Kill-team by 7eme-RuelleRouge


THE TRIALS

Ten lunar months had passed since the new recruits first arrived at Watch Fortress Erioch – a speck of time for a Space Marine. For ten months they trained in the ways and traditions that is Deathwatch. Ten months of grueling, relentless training unlike anything they had experienced before, as the Watch Captains oversaw their progress through discriminating eyes. To be selected - to be a chosen champion of their own home Chapters was not enough. Not nearly enough. Only after enduring the mind-numbing procedure of hypno-indoctrination – only after surviving barehanded and armorless combat trials with fearsome alien creatures – only after successfully completing the Kill-team cohesion assessments tests – then, and only then, were they finally accepted as one of the elite of the elites – a Deathwatch Space Marine.

Most succeed, but not all. It was the cohesion assessments that proved to be the most challenging – the obstacle that impeded even the most glorious champions across the Imperius Dominatus from assailing into the hallowed ranks of the Deathwatch Kill-teams. While Space Marines of all Chapters share one unified oath, to serve the Emperor of Mankind until death, they often do not share the same doctrines, beliefs, or traditions. Pride – arrogance – stubbornness – are mankind’s Achilles’ heel. Space Marines are not men, not anymore. They are glorious killing machines - perfected specimens created in the image of the God-Emperor himself - yet they too are not entirely immune to these mortal short-comings inherited by their human ancestry.

Fights broke out often and combat challenges were thrown down with reckless abandon amongst the newly recruited, as egos and ideologies routinely clashed – a circumstance veteran Deathwatcher’s were all too familiar with.  Foolishly, even Watch Captains were challenged. Notably, Watch Captain Tarran Cearr - a Storm Warden veteran who consistently went out of his way to goad fresh blood into duels to teach them a thing or two, but mostly to prove his superiority.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Grandma and Me

Grandma Robbins

I always wanted a Grandma. Sure, technically I had two Grandma’s – Grandma Walker and Grandma Ladd – but I never got a chance to know either of them. Both of my biological Grandma’s died long before I was born. As I’ve mentioned before, my Dad’s mom passed away just 2 years after he was born due to complications giving birth to his youngest sister. Grandma Ladd died due to a brain hemorrhage when she was in her mid-thirties. The family found her dead with blood all around her head. They assumed the cow that she had been milking had kicked her and caused the head trauma, but I believe she died as a result of a brain aneurism – the same complication that claimed my sweet Mother back in 1989.

For as long as I can remember I’ve been envious of my friends and associates that had a Grandma. Someone to knit you a sweater or make you one of those ear-flap hats to keep your head warm in the winter. Someone to bake you a batch of her world famous chocolate-chip cookies or cook you some homemade soup when you’re feeling under the weather. Someone to pinch your cheeks and tell you how adorable you are or how much they love you even with peanut-butter and jelly smeared across your face. Someone that always smiles when they see you, even if it was just a few moments ago that you trampled through their rose garden. Someone who keeps and cherishes everything you have ever made or given them, simply because you’re their grandchild. Someone who only sees the good in you, who loves you in spite of all the bad choices you made in life. That’s what I always wanted – a Grandma. 

Recently I celebrated my 42nd birthday. Alisha and I took a 3-day trip to Galveston to celebrate our birthdays together earlier in the month (which was amazing), but my actual birthday passed just like any other when you get my age -  easily and without much fan fair. In fact, I spent most of the day working, which was nothing to get excited about. But... a few days later... I received the most amazing birthday surprise... my very first EVER birthday card from my Grandma. How is that possible? Let me explain.