Month: October 2010

#oneaday, Day 277: Boobies

The title of this post was suggested to me as I was suffering slight writers’ block due to being in a room with a number of other people, some of whom are playing Modern Warfare 2, others of whom are listening to the Mortal Kombat soundtrack. Which, in itself, is pretty awesome, but isn’t exactly the most conducive environment for nurturing the best of one’s creativity. The post itself will not be about boobies. Unless I really can’t think of anything else to write about.

Mmm, boobies… Sorry, where was I?

So I thought I’d go a bit stream-of-consciousy for tonight. I haven’t done that for a while. This isn’t proper full-on freewriting, ’cause I’m not starting the timer and writing for a set number of minutes. But I am writing things as they come into my head. Which is nice. It also means that I might go off on something of a tangent as I – oh look, there’s a badger with a gun, do you see?

I am currently drinking grape soda, which I’m sure I have had before and liked but had forgotten quite how much it tasted like Calpol – the nice purple stuff you have when you’re a little kid, not the foul and disgusting pink stuff you get when you’re over the age of six (the imaginatively-named “Calpol Six-Plus”, fact fans). For those of you reading in American, Calpol was, for a long time (and possibly still) the generic “cure-all” medicine for children. I have no idea what was in it that made boo-boos go away, but for kids it is very much the equivalent of the fantasy RPG “cure-all potion” that restores hit points and, if it’s a fancy-pants version that costs more than 50 gold a time, sometimes cures status effects.

What was I saying? Nothing much at all, really. This is perhaps not my best work. But, you know, you work with what you’ve got. And I’m currently full of pizza and Calpol-flavoured fizzy stuff, surrounded by people I like very much indeed and so frankly, I’m more than happy with this post reflecting the pleasant feelings of “Ahh…” that I’m enjoying right at this moment. Regular followers of this blog since I started the whole #oneaday thing will know that it’s been quite a while since I’ve been able to really sit back, enjoy myself and make a contented-sounding noise like “Ahh…” so I’m damn well going to enjoy it.

I may be broke, unemployed and not exactly in the position I envisaged being in at this stage of my life. But, you know, for the moment? I can deal with it. Things could be worse – things have been worse – so I’m pleased to say that this could well be that downward spiral taking a turn for the better. If spirals can indeed take turns for the better.

You know what I mean. You reach rock bottom, you have to start climbing back out again sometime. So onwards and upwards it is, and thank you to those people who have made it possible. You know who you are.

Now there are games to play and Calpol to drink. Night night.

#oneaday, Day 276: Age of the Crossover

The Internet was left reeling yesterday with the news that Professor Layton and Phoenix Wright were to star in a game together, news which left me in a state of semi-orgasmic shock, and yet slightly disappointed that they hadn’t also included Trauma Team and Hotel Dusk in the mix. But no matter; as my Jaffa Cake-loving friend Jasmine Maleficent Rea pointed out, the idea of Edgeworth and Layton sitting down together and discussing tea is too awesome for words.

So it seems we’re in the Age of the Crossover. We’ve had the odd crossover title before, of course, Marvel vs Capcom being one that springs immediately to mind, as well as Square Enix’s bizarre 3D fighting game Ehrgeiz that featured a number of characters from the Final Fantasy series. And Kingdom Hearts, of course, which almost ignores the fact that floppy-haired J-protagonists are interacting with Disney characters presented in a completely different art style and is all the better for it.

But what else would work well as a crossover? Well, a short while back I suggested that a Call of Duty and Call of Cthulhu crossover might be a good idea. I still think that would be awesome. Particularly as there’s already been a first-person Call of Cthulhu game that was pretty good, if a bit buggy in places. In fact, I’d be more than happy with a multiplayer FPS version of awesome co-op board game Arkham Horror, although we’re kind of getting a bit off the crossover point there. Drop in the, erm, memorable Call of Duty characters, maybe?

But what else? As I suggest in today’s comic, doing interesting things with cars is always a good thing. Split/Second proves that you can make a cinematic, exciting driving game that uses a dynamic movie-like soundtrack rather than a boring licensed one. So why not take that to the next level and combine the already-epic-and-explosive action of Split/Second with the utter nonsense that is a JRPG boss battle? Let’s have racing around giant Shadow of the Colossus-style enemies, setting off environmental effects to attempt to take them down whilst they do their very best to throw the player off course. All the while accompanied by a full orchestral score and a choir of people singing loudly in Latin, naturally. (Incidentally, if you’ve never played any driving game with a custom orchestral soundtrack that involves a choir of people singing loudly in Latin then I can highly recommend it. It makes the whole experience considerably more exciting. Try the soundtracks from Castlevania Lords of Shadow or The Matrix Revolutions.)

Or you could go completely wild. Rockstar already seem pretty determined to do very odd things to Red Dead Redemption what with the zombie DLC and whatnot, so why not go the whole hog and do a Firefly crossover? It would be stylistically appropriate, after all (more so than bloody zombies) and provide an interesting twist on the Western formula, something which Firefly already does rather ably. Not to mention the fact that Nathan Fillion and the gang have already pretty much reprised their Firefly roles in Halo ODST. Shiny.

There’s plenty of scope for all manner of nonsense if you start pushing different franchises together in the name of entertainment. And I’m not talking about Alien vs Predator here. Let’s see more of these big names in gaming coming together to produce something beautiful.

So what would you like to see?

#oneaday, Day 275: Inexplicable Advertising

Advertising copywriters have a largely thankless task in front of them. Responsible for making people want to buy shit that they don’t really want to, it’s their job to come up with new and innovative ways to attract people to various products and inspire them to give them a try, usually by convincing people that they wouldn’t possibly be able to live without said product.

Some advertisers and product designers take an entirely different tack, however, and lapse into the realms of the bizarre. Let’s explore a few, shall we?

Options: Sexy Hot Chocolate

Hot chocolate: sexy. Confused nerd: less sexy.

Think of a nice warm mug of hot chocolate and what is the first thing that comes to mind? Perhaps snuggling under a nice warm blanket, maybe in front of a roaring fire. A large shaggy dog may be draped over the rug in front of said fire. Alternatively, you might be thinking of a camping trip, gathering around the campfire to warm yourselves before. Whatever specific image you have in your head, it’s probably related to night-time, warmth, cosiness and possibly being about to go to bed. For sleeping. Not for naughty reasons.

So, then, let’s take a look at the mint chocolate variety of Options hot chocolate.

“The flirty mint green kitten heels were madness at the garden party,” proudly proclaims the sachet. “Mint” and “madness” are much larger than the others, so you have to look close to read the rest of it.

Which is probably just as well, because it’s complete nonsense. What in the name of the nine Hells has mint green kitten heels (whatever they are) and garden parties got to do with a steaming hot chocolatey beverage? Why is there a woman in a slinky dress on the logo? She’s not even wearing heels!

Options hot chocolate is delicious, by the way, despite all this.

Maoam Stripes Enjoy Back-Door Lovin’

The fact the orange is winking leads me to believe that this is EXACTLY what it looks like.

Maoam are weird fruity chew things that taste like fruit flavour and are very addictive. They also have a weird name that is impossible to type correctly first time every single time it becomes necessary to type them.

Now, perhaps the nature of the sweets dictated the artwork on them—a fusion of fruit flavours, or something—but is it really necessary to have a picture of a lime gleefully bumming an amputee orange on the wrapper? I vote “no”.

These bizarre decisions pale in comparison to what you find in your average commercial break on digital or satellite TV these days, though:

Alexander the Asshole… I mean Meerkat

For those of you outside the UK, this irritating twat that a frankly depressing number of people seem to find utterly hilarious is the product of an advertising campaign for an insurance price comparison website called “Compare the Market”. The “joke” is that “Compare the Meerkat” sounds a bit like “Compare the Market”. If you’re a complete retard who can’t speak properly.

The above video is for his book. Yes, his book. A character dreamed up to sell insurance has a book out. I guess this should be a heartwarming story of a new national comedic treasure. But… oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s a mildly racist advertising campaign with an annoying catchphrase for—let’s not forget this fact—insurance—and the world is going crazy for it. Actually, the world is just going crazy.

Go Compare? Go Away

I don’t think anything else needs to be said, apart from pointing out insurance price comparison websites’ predilection for changing one of the most boring things in existence into one of the most irritating things in existence.

The Credit Idiot

“Hey, boss, shall we hire some actors?”

“Nah, fuck it, hire the guy from the takeaway around the corner. He’s cheap and he’s always wanted to be on TV.”

Seriously? All these ads have convinced me is that I never want to use any of those services, ever. Yet when I do actually need a service like that, the only sites I can think of are these ones because of their incredibly irritating adverts. Which I guess is sort of the point.

Oh well.

And people wonder why I don’t watch much TV.

#oneaday, Day 274: Seven Deadly Sims

[Click the comic to see a bigger version if you can’t read the text.]

The Sims shouldn’t be good. It really shouldn’t. It represents all the things that people say they’d never want to do in a game. People always say that they don’t want their characters modeled in such detail that they need to eat, sleep, poo and the like. But it was this level of detail that brought the original The Sims game to life.

Over time, the series has developed in many wild and crazy ways. To the casual observer, each game may appear to be fundamentally the same. But in fact, each new game (and, for that matter, each new expansion pack) has changed the way the game is played to a considerable degree. So much so that The Sims 3 now has the potential to go in any one of a wild number of disparate directions according to what the player feels like doing at any time. What other games do you know where you can do this:

Evil Jeff Grubb takes a sponge bath in the kitchen.

AND this:

Non-Evil Mike Rougeau puts out a fire. Professionally.

AND this…

Amarysse attempts to find her way around a flaming death trap in an ancient Chinese tomb.

AND this…

Amarysse spars with a fellow martial artist.

AND this…

Amarysse prepares to use her magic axe to smash the crap out of a boulder.

AND… you get the idea.

The Sims 3, with its current two expansion packs World Adventures and Ambitions, represents an enormously diverse experience that is by no means just about telling little people when to go to the toilet. No, what we have is probably pretty close to what Will Wright originally intended when he envisioned the series. A life simulator. A game where the player is pretty much free to do as they please.

If they want to stay at home and concentrate on building a family, they can do that. If they want to go out and explore perilous dungeons around the world, they can do that. If they want to try and prove they’re the best at a tricky profession, they can do that too. Or if they want to try and juggle all those things? Well, they can do that too. Amarysse, depicted above, is a successful athlete, lesbian, adoptive mother to a young child, treasure hunter and local hero in parts of China. And she’s only about halfway through her life. By the time she eventually shuffles off this mortal coil and it’s time for her adoptive son to take up the mantle of her family and prove himself, she’ll have a whole ton of experiences to look back on.

As you may have gathered, I have very much rediscovered The Sims recently. And if you’ve never given it a try, I can highly recommend it, even if you’ve never been a fan of the series before. You will be able to find something in that game for you to enjoy. Even if it’s something along the lines of this.

#oneaday, Day 273: Roots

“And so it is said,” quoth the ancient texts that I’ve just made up in my head, “that the Place in which a Man shall lay his Roots is not chosen by the Man, but rather the Place.”

And so it was that this weekend I found myself back in the vicinity of Southampton, the City of Lost Dreams. The circumstances under which I was back in said city (or specifically, the adjacent town of Beastleigh Eastleigh) are not the subject of today’s post; rather, the curious twists of fate that lead someone to return to the same place time and time again are.

My original choice to go to Southampton was based almost entirely on the university campus. The lush greenery, the pleasantly rolling hills of the campus grounds, the pleasant water features—all of these things combined to make me think that “yes, this is the place I’d like to be”. That and the fact that it was one of very few places in the whole country running the English and Music course that I was interested in studying. Incidentally, if you’re about to go to university and you are currently justifying your choice of degree subject by saying “it’s a good general qualification, good for anything, really” then just stop, punch yourself in the face and go and pick something specialist that leads directly into a career you’re interested in. Seriously. It will save you a lot of annoyance a few years down the road.

I studied in Southampton and successfully completed my degree, despite a few early-morning lectures ditched in favour of trips to the campus coffee shop, and one piano workshop which I had to leave in favour of being a bit sick in the Turner Sims concert hall’s toilets. I decided that I liked it there for various reasons, so I took on a teacher training course primarily as a means of staying in Southampton, and also as a means of getting a career appropriate to my skillset. Once that was over and done with, I moved to Winchester, which is a much smaller, nicer and more expensive town than Southampton. But my heart was still in the city of WestQuay.

I spent two years in Winchester, living in The Nicest Flat In The World for the first year and A House That Would Be Quite Nice Were It Not So Mouldy And Smelling Of Gas in the second. Following this, I moved to Aldershot to be closer to my job. I then quit said job and moved back to Southampton into another Flat That Would Be Quite Nice Were It Not So Mouldy But Not Smelling Of Gas This Time because I had a job in, yes, Southampton. Tired of mould, I moved into the place in the city centre that was to become the final resting place of my hopes and dreams for my life that was. During all that time, even when I hadn’t lived in the city itself, it felt like “base camp”, home. A place to be centred. This was partly (or probably mostly) to do with the people who were there—people who were and still are important to me.

Leaving the city behind was tough, as was probably apparent from the blog posts around that period. It was so tough, in fact, that it took nearly all day to say goodbye to four people. In fact, it did take all day, and my overburdened car was not on its way up the M3 until the sun had long since dipped over the horizon.

Now, circumstances, Fate, whatever you want to call it; something has intervened and is dragging me back there. I’m not complaining (except at the cost of petrol or train tickets, both of which are extortionate) but I do get something of a wry grin on my face when I think of the city (and, by extension, its surrounding smaller towns and cities like Eastleigh and Winchester). It’s like a stubborn child that won’t quit until it gets what it wants, tugging on my metaphorical coat sleeves to attract my attention and pointing, oh look, over there, there’s a badger with a gun, can you see? Wouldn’t it be awesome if that was in your back garden?

So what will happen in the long term? I couldn’t honestly say. A lot will depend on the job situation, which still isn’t resolved yet. But let’s just say that there’s something of a quasi-gravitational pull in a south-westerly direction. It may be hard to resist that call for long.

#oneaday, Day 272: Person LF Person

People are funny things, aren’t they? You’d think there would be infinite possibilities, infinite combinations out there. But the fact that it’s possible through psychological testing to boil people down (not literally) into various categories based on whether they are introverted or extroverted, compassionate or twattish and, I don’t know, whether they like Chinese food or not, suggests otherwise.

And so it is that you come across people who are Your Kind of People. People who are Your Kind of People can appear at any time in the wild. For introverts like me, it’s sometimes difficult to find them as finding new people inevitably involves putting yourself out there a bit and actually talking to strangers. Scariness. Unless you have an appropriate context in which to start talking to new people. Perhaps you’ve been exchanging messages online. Perhaps someone you know is introducing you. Perhaps you’re at a social occasion for some mutual friends. Perhaps it’s a new job. Perhaps you get the idea by now and I can stop giving examples.

It’s sometimes difficult to define what Your Kind of People are. Is it to do with interests? Personality? Physical appearance? Whether or not they stink of cabbage? Well, in my experience, the answer to this is “yes”. All of those things are contributing factors in the complex equation that determines whether someone else is Your Kind of Person or not. And someone being Your Kind of Person doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re attracted to them, although this can and does happen. In which case you end up dating someone who is Your Kind of Person, which is pretty much an ideal situation to be in for everyone involved.

I am very pleased that over the last few days I have met several people who are My Kind of People. The reasons for each of them being My Kind of People are varied, but they’re all people that I feel very comfortable and happy hanging out with. People who I feel understand me, or if they don’t understand me now may well be in a position to say “Yes, I understand Pete perfectly” at some point in the future. People with whom I share some interests. People that I enjoy the company of. People who are, in short, pretty damn awesome.

It’s always a pleasant feeling when this happens. You don’t get a positive Moodlet in The Sims 3 for making a new friend for no reason, after all. Finding new people to spend time with is always good, particularly if they are people that you don’t feel you have to compromise the person you are in order to be with. People that you can be comfortable with and let out the side of yourself that sometimes stays hidden in polite society. (And I’m not talking about the side of you that might like to wear nappies or do inappropriate things involving poo or pieces of ginger. That side is probably best to keep hidden until you’re absolutely sure that Your Kind of People share said interests.)

So, I’m having a very lovely weekend when all’s said and done. I hope you are too.

#oneaday, Day 271: Clever Pun on “Teriyaki”

Food is great. Everyone loves food. Some might call it an essential to survival. But not all foods are created equal. Some are lame and bland and tasteless. Some are Brussels sprouts. Some are chocolate eclairs.

And then there’s Japanese food.

“So what?” you might say. “Who gives a god-damn doodly bugger bollocks?”

Well, okay. You may take Japanese food for granted. But it’s still a relative rarity in certain parts of the UK that aren’t London. And even then, YO! Sushi isn’t really Japanese food. Or perhaps I should say “authentic” Japanese food.

Tonight I went to a place in Southampton that I’d always wanted to go to but never had done for some reason. That place is Zen, a Japanese restaurant at the far end of the High Street. I was gently encouraged into this course of action by my very lovely dining companion for the evening, who was a big fan and certainly didn’t need much convincing when I suggested we give it a shot.

Inside, the décor is a curious blend of Japanese and Western cultural influences. There is Japanese artwork on the walls, but the heavy chairs would look more at home in a banqueting hall than an Eastern-style restaurant. Also, there is a glitter ball, the presence of which was never fully explained.

The place is bathed in a soft red light from the lights on the bar and the candles at the sides, and the ambient light is dim, but not annoyingly so. It’s a very pleasant atmosphere in which to dine, marred only slightly by the distinctly Western pop music playlist.

Then came the food. It came very quickly, for starters, which is a good thing. Also, it was delicious.

You want more details than that eh? All right. I had a “Teriyaki Salmon Set”, which included several generous chunks of beautifully-cooked melt-in-the-mouth salmon in gorgeous, sweet teriyaki sauce. Then there was a simple salad with tomatoes, cucumber and lettuce with a mild yet tasty dressing. There were some pickled vegetables (cucumber and carrot strips) that had been pickled in a very sweet vinegar. There was a mound of sticky rice. And there was a bowl of very tasty miso soup, too, containing tofu which dissolved into nothingness pretty much the second it hit your tongue.

There was not one thing on that plate that wasn’t delicious. Even the simple “side salad” tasted great thanks to the dressing. But the highlight of the show was the salmon. It was magnificent.

Dinner was followed with a look at the sake list. We opted for “Kushi” (I think), which is a plum wine which tastes dangerously non-alcoholic and is served cold. It was fruity and delicious, and had a bit of a bite to it, but not in that sometimes-unpleasant overly-alcoholic way. The bite in this was from the tartness of the plums, and it was a pretty delicious way to cleanse the palate after the yumminess of the main course.

I later told my experiences to a friend, who claimed that an actual Japanese friend of his didn’t rate it much. This was a surprise. So maybe it’s not that “authentic” after all. But it was certainly delicious, and I’d definitely recommend it. So who are you going to listen to? A Japanese person or the guy whose blog you’re reading right now?

Actually, don’t answer that.

#oneaday, Day 270: Go Go Gadget, uhh, Gadget

I love gadgets. Anyone who knows me in “real life” will not be surprised by this revelation. But I’m always impressed by quite how much we can do with various little portable implements these days. And even not quite so recently, too.

The most recent mind-blowing moment I had was during this last week when I had my little expedition to the woods. I was standing in the middle of a forest with absolutely no trace of civilisation except a little crude wooden bench by the side of the muddy path. And somehow I had better mobile signal than I do in the house I’m sitting right now. So, without thinking, I popped out my iPhone and fired up eBuddy to say hello to my buddy Chris in California. He responded back and we had a nice discussion about music.

Let’s just think about that a minute. I was in the middle of a wood in Cambridgeshire, England. Chris was somewhere in sunny California. And yet there we were, chatting away like this was a perfectly normal thing to do. That’s awesome.

One of my favourite gadget moments, though, was a good few years back now. I was up in Edinburgh at the Fringe with the Southampton University Theatre Group, or “Rattlesnake!” as we’d inexplicably decided to call ourselves. At the time, I had somehow managed to end up with the responsibility of keeping the Theatre Group website up to date. I’d prepared a special Edinburgh page and everything, and I decided that it would be pretty awesome to keep an online diary. The concept of “blogging” was but a pipe dream for all but the biggest nerds (even bigger than me) at this point. And doing so via a mobile device was absolutely out of the question.

I did, however, have my Palm Tungsten with me, to date my second-favourite gadget after my iPhone. You could play Shining Force on it, for heaven’s sake. That’s awesome, if beside the point. No, the reason my Palm came in handy was that I could type up my diary entries into the Notes application on it and then use the handily-provided SD card (32MB!) to transfer said material to a computer in the conveniently-located Internet café we found one day.

One may ask why I didn’t just type said diary entries straight into the computers. Well, the advantage of doing it on the Palm was that I could write things as they happened. I could write a rehearsal report. I could write what we were up to in the park. I could write about flyering the Royal Mile. The Frankenstein pub. (AMAZING) Being on top of Arthur’s Seat drinking sake as the sun rose. (DOUBLEPLUSAMAZING)

Sure, I could have written about these things after the fact. But the immediacy of being able to write about it there and then was pretty damn cool. Each new generation of gadgets makes this sort of thing easier and easier to do. And while it has its downsides—the sea of people filming concerts on their mobile phones instead of actually watching the damn things being one—on the whole I think it’s really great to be able to share life’s exciting little moments (or, in the case of some of you out there, the details of your latest bowel movements) with people that you care about it. Of course some of this is vanity. But the other side of it is being able to share things with people that you don’t get to hang out with as often as you like.

So gadgets are awesome. For everyone. Not just nerds.

#oneaday, Day 269: Things To Do While Waiting For The Phone To Ring

Of all the items of technology the human race has ever invented, the humble phone is surely one which has the greatest hold over our lives. It can make us drop what we’re doing and run off somewhere. It can make us laugh, make us cry, make us scared. And it can make us wait. Wait for hours.

You might be waiting for the results of a job interview. An STD test. A loved one’s driving test. You might be waiting for a special person to call. You might be hoping that someone from your place of work doesn’t call because you skived off today and you think someone might have seen you on your lunch break. You might be waiting for a utility company to “call you back” with the results of an enquiry you made six months ago.

In short, you could be waiting for lots of things. Which means you could be spending an awfully long time sitting and staring at your phone, particularly if you’re kicking yourself that you gave the person you’re expecting to call you back your landline number. Because who the hell uses landlines any more anyway? Mobile’s where it’s at. With a mobile phone you don’t have to sit and stare at the phone, willing it to ring. Of course, in practice all that happens is you tend to sit on the couch with your mobile nearby instead of near the phone table. Because you don’t dare go anywhere in case you miss an important phone call. And heaven forbid if you ever have to answer an important phone call while you’re engaged in toilet activity of the sitting-down variety. (“Is that an echo?” they’ll say. “Where are you?” “In a cave,” you’ll reply, a little too quickly. “A cave with a mobile mast on top of it.”)

So what to do while you’re waiting for the phone to ring? It can’t be anything which you have to commit to, because you might have to drop everything at a moment’s notice to go and answer the phone call. It can’t be anything that gets your hands dirty, because no-one likes picking up a phone with dirty hands. And it can’t possibly be anything which requires you to go outside, because then other people might hear you discussing your itchy parts with the nurse.

So, here are five suggestions.

1. Pair up your socks.

You’ve been meaning to do it for months. And you haven’t. So instead of sitting staring into space, why not make a start on it? Pairing up your socks is a job that you can easily leave unfinished and go back to, months later sometimes. Hence, it is an eminently waiting-for-phone-call-friendly activity. Experienced professionals with cordless phones can even continue pairing their socks while they are on the phone.

2. Play a casual game.

This is what casual games like Bejeweled, Peggle and the like were made for. Playable in short bursts, easy to jump out of at a moment’s notice if you need to and actually fun for those few minutes you’re waiting, they also give your brain a bit of a workout. Unless it’s Farmville, in which case all you’re working out is your clicking finger. Moo.

3. Play “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” on Wikipedia.

Here’s how this works. Pick two completely disparate topics. Open the Wikipedia page for one. Using six clicks or less, you must navigate your way to the second topic using only the hyperlinks within the Wiki articles.

4. Bleach the toilet.

You’ve been complaining for weeks that the toilet stinks, so go and squirt some bleach down it. This takes a matter of seconds. And if the phone rings once you’ve bleached it, it’ll be time to flush by the time you’re off the phone again.

5. Make me a coffee.

Well go on. Don’t just sit there.

#oneaday, Day 268: Through the Night

I took my first steps into the night. Coming from the brightness I’d left behind me, the inky blackness looked impenetrable, a solid wall of darkness into which I’d vanish, never to be heard from ever again, were I to take one step further forward.

I took a step forward, and I did not vanish. The light was still behind me but my eyes were gradually adjusting, focusing, bringing that which was hidden into view again.

I took out the small torch and lit it, the small pool of light it cast spilling onto the floor, concentric circles of light and shadow. There’s always a way through even the blackest darkness if you have even just a little light.

I stepped forward again, and again, and began walking into the darkness. I didn’t know where my feet were taking me save into the black of the night. But I was moving forward, ever onward, like it was the thing to do. It was important. This was all that mattered right now. I walked, sweeping the dim light of the torch in front of me and watching ill-defined shapes pass as the light caught them and I walked past.

“Run,” whispered a voice in my ear, and I obeyed. I quickened my pace, still holding the torch, still sweeping it around, not knowing where I was headed or where I would end up. But I was running. The ground was hard under my feet, the regular thump-thump-thump of my steps mingling with the quickening of my heart in a chorus of drums that only I was witness to.

The darkness closed in around me, and the pool of light showed me that I was surrounded by shadows, but they did not feel threatening. Rather, they encased me, enclosed me, kept me safe. And still I ran, ever forward. The hard ground gave way beneath my feet to loose stones and finally soft mud. I felt the occasional splash of a puddle, but I was already past it, ever moving onwards. Still moving, still pushing forwards. But to where?

A scent filled my nostrils, a natural smell; the smell of the woods, of trees and leaves. It infused my being with a sense of peace. Out here there was nothing to fear, nothing to hide from, nothing to run from. But still I ran, with a sense of purpose that became ever more urgent.

In the distance, a pinpoint of light. As I drew closer, it flickered, its warm glow drawing my eyes away from the dark and towards what I now knew to be my destination. Closer still, and I could see the gentle flames; a source of comfort, warmth and safety, a place to rest a while.

As I entered the clearing I felt the warmth of the fire on my face and smelled the sweet smoke. And then she was there too, looking at me, smiling, those eyes gazing deep into my soul.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, taking my hand.