The Sweet Life of Sierra Sugar: October 2011

Carnival Street, originally uploaded by ~sierra sugar~.

Old Europe Village is a quaint old-world place with little town shops lining the cobblestone streets. At its center is a town square hosting the annual Hallow's Eve Carnival. There are lots of hidden treasures to explore from dancing in the fog-covered graveyard to riding the skull Ferris wheel, a haunted tunnel of love ride, and even a haunted house guarded by zombies. Old Europe Village changes with the seasons, so be sure to catch the carnival while it's still in town.

And you thought the post was going to end there? C'mon, you know me better than that by now...

So its Halloween time and I've had a quote from my favorite movie in my head for some time. It's what inspired this post. Ray Bradbury wrote the book "Something Wicked This Way Comes" and Disney turned it into a movie in 1983. While many know the quote, few are familiar with its interesting history.

Shakespeare is actually the original creator of part of the known phrase. It derives from Macbeth, a line spoken by the second witch in reference to Macbeth himself. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow contributed to part of the rhyme borrowed from his "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day". And Mr. Ray Bradbury put it all together in his wonderful little story of a twist of fate spoken by the character Mr. Dark. And without further ado:

"By the pricking of my thumbs,

something wicked this way comes.

Then toll the bells both loud and deep,

God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.

The wrong will fail, the right prevail,
With peace on Earth, good will toward men"

"Ill winds mark its fearsome flight,
and autumn branches creak with fright.
The landscape turns to ashen crumbs,
when something wicked this way comes.

Crystal water turns to dark,
where e'er its presence leaves its mark,
and boiling currents pound like drums,
when something wicked this way comes.

A presence dark invades the fair,
and gives the horses ample scare,
for chaos reigns and panic numbs,
when something wicked this way comes."


Something Wicked This Way Comes

Shopping List:

Skin: Nomine Aether - Latte
Hair: /Wasabi Pills/ Ahiga Hair - Silver
Eyes: FDM-Alive-Succubus-L-Light
Lashes: Miamai_NoAlpha Lashes_N01

Horns: Sinfull Aaryanna horns Black
Wings: ::{Favole}:: Entangled *Version 3*
Tail: Chained black tail stomach attach
Gloves: ELEMENTAL glowing electric hands +Fallen Gods Inc.+ PITCH BLACK

A faint breeze drifted through the partially opened window carrying in the smells and sounds of the not-so-distant port. The over-sized brass hinges held the weight of the heavy stained-glass pane of abstract design. The sunlight, finished with its game of chase with the clouds, fell upon the window and a cornucopia of color burst through breaking the dusty haze of the workshop, and caused the man inside to lift his head.

Perhaps this was the first time since his day began that he found his mind no longer focused on his never-ending work, only the man himself knew. His concentration broken, he gazed around allowing his eyes to fleetingly acknowledge each of his creations then move on to another. Some were finished, many others in various stages of completeness. All crafted with genuine passion for his trade and a tender touch that comes only from one who’s work becomes so much more to them than a mere means to earn a daily copper.

His eyes focused on the open window just as a breeze picked up and ruffled his mussed dark hair. He sighed softly as the same breeze cooled his skin. Then he heard it, the faint clack-clack whir, clack-clack whir. A repetitive sound, rhythmic, faint but seemed to be slowly intensifying in volume. Somewhere beyond he could hear the earthy cry of the gulls to the men on the wharf for a bit of food. He could hear the sharp snap of sails being pulled quickly to attention from a gust of wind. And even could hear the deeper sounds that were more thump than clack that the large corkscrew airships made as they hovered above the docks.

But there rising above all the din and bustle of the port was the clack-clack whir, clack-clack whir, and yes it was indeed getting louder. The man removed his half-moon, brass-rimmed glasses then pinched his soft wool shirt around the glass in an attempt to wipe away the dusty splotches that accumulated while he worked. When he placed them back on the bridge of his nose he gave a resigned smirk that for all his efforts, they were still dirty, however the splotches had become smudges. Tonight he’d have to wash them in the basin.

The clack-clack whir, was quite distinct and audible now, and seemed to be approaching the half-opened window. The man maneuvered around various desks and piles of work and stepped to the window to see if he could locate the source of this noisy interruption. Just as he fully opened the second pane of glass a gust of wind blew itself in ruffling his hair more and he heard several sheets of parchment take flight landing against a wall or floor behind him. Then he saw it. The little brass flyer as it mightily flapped its wings and made a bee-line for the window.

He stepped back in wonder and surprise at the flyer with its brass wings ablaze in warm colors from the late-afternoon sun. Clack-clack whir, clack-clack whir, he heard again and again until the little flyer was hovering, rather noisily, above the windowsill. There was a longer whir as the wings retracted and a slight clatter when the minuet flyer landed on the sill with its little brass feet. Much to the man’s amazement its movements were more delicate than normally seen by mechanical contraption, and such the clackity bird placed on the sill a glass-blown yellow rose with intricately crafted brass leaves.

The tiny, wondrous flyer then began a bell-clear chirping as it shook one of its legs at the man. There was a miniature scroll attached with coarse hemp binding to the little flyer's leg and he wanted it off. A single tug unraveled the bow, and the scroll rolled to the window where the man scooped it up before the wind could catch it. Opening the scroll, the man read with a smile.

Dear Maxwell Sir,

As you labor away through your various works and projects, remember to take a moment to catch a breeze, hear the birds sing, appreciate the small things, and smile at the beauty of the day. Today is your day, a mile-marker to be celebrated (or not) as you see fit. Peace and prosperity be with you my friend, as well as happiness beyond measure.

The little bird sang with its bell-like chirps once more then leapt from the sill taking flight back towards the way it had traveled. The man stood quietly, watched and listened as the clack-clack whir faded into the silence of the approaching night and smiled.

[Just a fun post to wish Maxwell Graf, the creator of Rustica, a happy 5th Rez Day in Second Life. His works to improve sculpt maps as well as pushing towards a better, more usable Mesh are appreciated by many throughout SL. Thank you, Max, and very happy rez day!]

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