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  • Gallery: If the White Whale be raised, it must be in a month

    Image Credits: Thomas Leuthard, Eflon & Ryan Johnson. I see nothing here, but a round thing made of gold, and whoever raises a certain whale, this round thing belongs to him. So, what’s all this staring been about? It is worth sixteen dollars, that’s true; and at two cents the cigar, that’s nine hundred and sixty cigars. I won’t smoke dirty pipes like Stubb, but I like cigars, and here’s nine hundred and sixty of them; so here goes Flask aloft to spy ‘em out.

    “Shall I call that wise or foolish, now; if it be really wise it has a foolish look to it; yet, if it be really foolish, then has it a sort of wiseish look to it. But, avast; here comes our old Manxman—the old hearse-driver, he must have been, that is, before he took to the sea. Continue Reading

    13 Março, 2014 • Dark, Photo, Reviews • Views: 431

  • I wonder what the creatures intend doing with us, Perry…

    Image credit. I wondered why these agile creatures required connecting bridges between the trees, but later when I saw the motley aggregation of half-savage beasts which they kept within their village I realized the necessity for the pathways. There were a number of the same vicious wolf-dogs which we had left worrying the dyryth, and many goatlike animals whose distended udders explained the reasons for their presence. Continue Reading

    29 Setembro, 2013 • Featured, Photo, Urban • Views: 461

  • All night a wide-awake watch was kept by all the officers, forward and aft

    “The Lakeman now patrolled the barricade, all the while keeping his eye on the Captain, and jerking out such sentences as these:—’It’s not our fault; we didn’t want it; I told him to take his hammer away; it was boy’s business; he might have known me before this; I told him not to prick the buffalo; I believe I have broken a finger here against his cursed jaw; ain’t those mincing knives down in the forecastle there, men? look to those handspikes, my hearties. Captain, by God, look to yourself; say the word; don’t be a fool; forget it all; we are ready to turn to; treat us decently, and we’re your men; but we won’t be flogged.’ Continue Reading

    3 Setembro, 2013 • Design, Featured, Photo • Views: 255

  • Evening Fog: Milford Sound, New Zealand

    Image Credit Presently it swung full upon us and—stopped. The tension on our nerves was near the breaking point, and I doubt if any of us breathed for the few moments he held us covered by his glass; and then he lowered it and we could see him shout a command to the warriors who had passed from our sight behind the ridge. He did not wait for them to join him, however, instead he wheeled his thoat and came tearing madly in our direction.

    There was but one slight chance and that we must take quickly. Raising my strange Martian rifle to my shoulder I sighted and touched the button which controlled the trigger; there was a sharp explosion as the missile reached its goal, and the charging chieftain pitched backward from his flying mount. Continue Reading

    1 Setembro, 2013 • Featured, Photo • Views: 260

  • Gallery Post – Down the hill I saw a bevy of hussars

    I and my wife stood amazed. Then I realised that the crest of Maybury Hill must be within range of the Martians’ Heat-Ray now that the college was cleared out of the way. At that I gripped my wife’s arm, and without ceremony ran her out into the road. Then I fetched out the servant, telling her I would go upstairs myself for the box she was clamouring for.

    “We can’t possibly stay here,” I said; and as I spoke the firing reopened for a moment upon the common. “But where are we to go?” said my wife in terror. I thought perplexed. Then I remembered her cousins at Leatherhead.

    Continue Reading

    14 Novembro, 2012 • Dark, Design, Life, Photo, Urban • Views: 323

  • The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe

    “What can I do for you?” she inquired softly, for she was moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke.

    “Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” he answered. “They are rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage.”

    Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can, and then she returned and asked anxiously, “Where are your joints?” Continue Reading

    3 Novembro, 2012 • Nature, Photo • Views: 225