Over the last few weeks or so after his motorcycle wreck where my brother, Tracy broke his back, he's recovering but other complications slowly emerged. Weight lost of some 60 pounds and feeling ill have brought him down to 120 pounds. Years of a "bad boy" life style and rough living saw his survive a double lung transplant due to emphysema, only to have harsh consequences on his other organs, like kidneys. As of yesterday his growing kidney failure called for a need for emergency dialysis, and IV fluids to counteract dehydration. His dropping blood pressure landed him in ICU for more critical care and observations, as well as a need for a blood transfusion for unknown blood loss.
Continued prayers requested and updates forthcoming...
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Thank you for taking the time to visit; enjoy the posts...
CHANGE IS COMING
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT CHAPTER of my story. We are moving from HERE to THERE. Plans for stashing our stuff and plans for getting there.
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Garza Family Drawings
This is a photoshop picture of the five drawings I did of my daughter's family.
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THE BOOK OF SKIN: NOTES...
[THE BOOK OF SKIN]
Mitharians called the Skin Tradition Barbaric.
The Tribal head leads out in the recital at the Gathering. The #1 begins reading “the portion” on his left arm and then the rest #2,3,4,5,6,7,8.; follow, then in unison, they all say THE SENTENCE on their left arm.
LEFT ARM:
*“Gather yourselves //together to recite//the words of//your kin that//they may not//be lost like the//books of the other//people about you.”
[yaher jannaja//ahera che logros//mal logra utd//jana jaja oj//kana al bana//am ull jal mal//loggah mutd kene//jama hera jan]=(Nasil in image above)
[yaher jannaja//ahera che logros//mal logra utd//jana jaja oj//kana al bana//am ull jal mal//loggah mutd kene//jama hera jan]=(Nasil in image above)
RIGHT ARM:
“Do not forget the gathering of yourselves.”
BACK:
CHEST:
*Only “a portion” of
Each tribe had a tattoo artist. The artist was trained as a Tanner.
The oral tradition was told to the “elves” Watcher Nolmithlon, and it was alright for him to write this interview down in their script. The oral tradition of the NASIL was The History of The Judges and the Chronicles of the Skin. The people of the desert called themselves THE NASIL, meaning “The Remembered”. From their earliest of days, they marked their skin with ink. The Nasil tattooed ink with a mallet and quill the names and history of their tribal fathers. In the time it became the custom to “save” this skin art. In each tribe, there was such an Artist, and he alone was it ascribed to the task of its removal as a Tanner. The dead of the Nasil were buried in the earth or covered with stones on hidden in caves. Those who had “their stories removed” were cremated afterward and their ashes were scattered “enchanted the land as holy”.
The Tanner-Artist kept all of these skins and sewed them together in a scroll fashion. At the time of Gathering #1 handed the “Skins” over to the #2 next Tanner to keep for a year and rotated through the other tribes. These Tribal Tanners were the collective historians of the Nasilian people. This was the only example of their language.
////////////////………………THE SKIN……..//////////////////
*Symbol* Shadol Skull
It was the seventh Shadol who gave the pouched skin of the first Judge to be added to this Tanner Scroll
. . . After his father, Bada`ul died his son Sha`dul took his skin. The marked skin of his back was inked with the names of his fathers.
Sha`dul was the first to keep the skin of his father. He tanned it like animal hide and told his son Shedo`ul to do the same of his family.
Shedo`ul took only the marked skin of lore and those before him did sew as one together, and then their bodies burned.
THE Firstborn son had prominence. Yet, it was the youngest son, if he had no male heirs that his line was ended. If brothers had no male offspring it was their skin that was taken for them to be remembered. The Tanner Scribe of “Skin Smith” was the Keeper.
Tanners were the first person notified of an individual’s death so they could “read the body”. Tanner (Shaman/Priest/Historian)
THE LAST JUDGE: The Nasil were forced to destroy their most holy relic. It ended the cultural tradition of keeping their history in the tattooed skin fashion by by the third generation the Nasil were gone.
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THE RAPE OF NAYLON
The seven brothers set out from Mithar on the north road to Elosh, for the Oasis between those two cities. For they all gathered with Naylon their sister in search of those who had violated her. Coming near to the largest of the three pools of the desert cracks, and seeing the Bedouins gathered outside their tents, Naylon whispered to Navon her brother, that these were indeed the men.
Seeing only one woman among the approaching group of men, the leader called out to them, “How much would you give for such a thing as this woman here?”
The brothers gave no answer as they drew closer. The leader then boldly shouted, “I would gladly surrender my bejeweled dagger. I had her once before and she would be well worth a second go, my friend.” The men had been drinking and were all agreeing with taking her by force.
Though the seven brothers were outnumbered, as there were twenty-one Bedouins; they disguised their anger with laughter. Navon, the eldest brother countered with, “Let us play a drinking game, with the last man standing winning her as the grand prize instead!”
To this, they all agreed with laughter and food. But unknown to the tent dwellers of the oasis, the youngest brother, Bellojon added a sleeping herb to all their strong drinks. As the laughter, food, and wine continued soon the Bedouins were fast asleep. When the last of them was down, the brothers made quick work of tying them up like boars over a spit for cooking. The following morning all twenty-one of the ruffians woke up cursing and screaming upon finding they were naked and tied up.
The brothers remained silent as the captive men cooked beneath the desert heat. At the noon hour, Naylon rose from her slumber in the cool of one of the tents. Without a word to any of them, Naylon castrated each man, but watched him bleed out and die before she went to the next one. Her brothers stood beside her as she did this. When she came to the last man who raped her, he hoarsely whispered, “I am Rodoth, son of Baeroth and I swear that I alone loved you. I tried to save you from such wicked men as these I found myself among.”
Without looking at her brothers and never taking her eyes from him she denounced his lies, “You were the first to thrust yourself inside me, encourage, and then praised the others for doing the same.” Naylon spat upon Rodoth and with great ease cut off his parts and shoved them into his screaming mouth. Along with her silent brothers, she watched the last of her violators perish by bleeding out. Afterward, Naylon said to her eldest brother, Navon, “Only God himself shall forgive them for I never shall.” Not for the men, but for the loss of their sister’s joy the brothers called the place “Sorrow”. Thereafter was it ever called The Oasis of Orid, (meaning the pools of sorrow).
Leaving their homes behind all brothers all returned to Sinjar and each one, their wives and children took care of Naylon like she was a queen until she passed away fourteen years later.
Leaving their homes behind all brothers all returned to Sinjar and each one, their wives and children took care of Naylon like she was a queen until she passed away fourteen years later.
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The Tale of Felladros om`Kathos
7 The Tale of Felladros om`Kathos
Felladros, the son of Adoromeir and Anathray a daughter from Kathos; was tall and fair skinned. His voice was angelic, and hair a golden hue. He was soft spoken, gentle; but firm and unmoving in his ways. Felladros was the youngest son among four sisters: Cellabrin, Corabrin, Mellasdom and Feairdom the eldest.
Felladros lived in the southern port city of Kathos, the hometown of his mother. At the age twenty-seven, he said, “I desire much to see the larger world father and to explore Eriduah’s realms and its peoples for myself. The old tales are but rumors and memories of others and I burn to make my own among them.”
“Seems you are bound to do as you desire; forgetting the concerns of your mother. So, go in peace my son. Only return when your joys are renewed with thoughts of home and your experiences plenty and worth the sharing, as you will always have worth among us even if you do not venture far from home.” Adoromeir smiled at his son.
Then his father added, “Only in your ways be ever mindful of Eru-Illuva that his grace may enlighten your heart. Ours will be a void until you safely return unto your mother’s side.” With such blessing and farewell to his sisters and lastly his mother’s loving embrace, Finaldros left his hometown to explore the larger world.
Felladros had grown up hearing detailed stories of Mithar’s grandeur from his father, and of Lindol’s sinful nature with its many pagan temples, from his mother. But Felladros wanted to see them for himself. He would return home by that route he promised his heart, before seeing his family again. Yet he headed for Sinjar to meet the exiled Witch Kimashe for himself. He wanted to see the famed desert fountain of Uruk and the mythical talking stone faces of The Hidden Gorge, he wanted to meet the dwarves of Mount Ipstha and hear their solemn songs for himself. Finaldros desired to know why things were the way they were and understand why people fell silent when such things were mentioned in conversation. What had become of the Halflings and why did no one speak of the departed elves. Felladros was filled with questions as he left the port city of his upbringing that clear summer day.
Felladros rode Salom, one of his father’s horses. For many years Adoromeir had lived in Mithar, but as the city grew he found breeding horses beyond the city wall most appealing. On one trip to Kathos for trade, he had fallen in love with a merchant’s daughter and thereafter remained.
After a few miles up the northern road to Mithar, Felladros turned and headed northeast. To his right, the sparse trees had begun to collect as the western edge of the Kinderval Forest.
Spruce and many oaks grew on the beginning slope that became the Blue Mountain range that later birthed the triple mount of Jebul. His morning ride was uneventful beneath a clear sky. By late evening the thoughts of Felladros were squarely upon the childhood tales of Sinjar. The moon was out, and her glory full overhead. One by one the stars appeared. At nightfall, Felladros found a clearing near the southern tip of Falcon Creek which he knew cut through Sinjar. It would be his guide north for another day’s journey. He gathered stones for a ring and tender to start a camp fire.
“Well, Salom what a grand adventure we’ve begun girl.” The horse grazed without reply. After a meal of bread and salted fish, Felladros prepared a bed and slept through the night.
Awakened at daybreak he announced, “Salom, shall we meet the Witch Kimashe today, and what odd things lay before us?” An owl called and then another answered. He found it rather strange that only now did he recall there were no such sounds throughout the night. Crickets and other birds called as if sound had suddenly come to him.
Looking into the woods, Felladros felt compelled to change his plans from going to Sinjar to exploring Kinderval instead. It was an ancient forest with rumored history and myths of forgotten tales, but the young man desired such experiences of his own to tell, for ‘what is life without stories’ he thought to himself.
The trees grew more and closer together, their canopy began an entangled roof overhead and the floor bedded with a carpeting of leaves, root, and brush. The more he continued on into the peaceful woods the quieter it became until only the slightest of breezes rustled the branches overhead. Into the deafening silence of the forest Felladros slowly rode Salom forward. On and on they went amid the gathering trees as the woods grew denser. After sometime Felladros dismounted and guided his steed on foot. The beauty of it all was most enchanting to the young explorer.
Just as a butterfly winged-past before them, Salom suddenly stopped in her tracks refusing to go any further. Thinking she might have injured her leg Felladros searched to no avail the cause of her disobedience. Being unmoved he looked about for another cause and saw only a single deer far ahead deeper amid a clearing.
“Whatever is the matter with you, girl? First, you stop at a butterfly, and now a deer, as though you have never seen one before.” Felladros laughed to himself petting the horse’s neck. Upon looking back he saw now that the deer had drawn closer and a gathering with it. Seeing no better time for a hunt, Felladros slowly reached for the bow across his back. Stringing his arrow ever so slowly the hunter took sure aim. The deer turned its head sideways in a strange manner, a breath later the arrow was let loose in a startled fashion.
“Stop,” was the astonishing voice that frightened Felladros! Frozen with wide eyes the young man stood as still as his horse. Looking about he saw no one else. Salom began stepping backward pulling against the reins as the gathering of deer approached.
Again the doe spoke in the common speech, “Be not afraid.”
The young man stammered, “But – how could?”
“You are not mad, oh son of man,” the deer reassured him.
Seeing the two of them conversing, Salom was content enough to begin grazing.
“I must be mad or in a dead sleep,” Felladros refused to believe in a talking animal.
“Neither,” the deer spoke again. “I am called an Elodreen.”
Felladros was overwhelmed with fright, “Only from childhood fables was that name ever uttered, and then evoked by exhausted parents to quell their unruly children! Be gone foul beast of these wicked woods!”
The deer made an almost laughing sound, “As all children can be at times, oh frightened son of man.” She then turned back and called to the stag behind her among the following herd. He led the group away back into the direction they had come.
Feeling childish, Felladros likewise acknowledged her trust in him by saddling his bow and quiver.
“Over there, son of man shall you find a fully stocked pond of fish by which to feast upon.” At that, she began digging at the ground with her front hooves, and added, “My deepest gratitude for not slaying me and my kin.
As the Elodreen spoke, Felladros noticed for the first time that a fringed, beaded pouch hung about the deer’s lean neck. He said, “I am Felladros, son of Adoromeir of Kathos. I hail from the sea port only two days south of here. Pray, tell me whatever are Elodreens, for we call you ‘deer’s?”
“My name is Na-Ethra.” After she had dug out a wide area, she added, “I was not unlike you, Felladros for I had wandered far from home as well and sought company here in the Yellow Woods and gave into my special gift.”
“’Silent One,’ that is a perfect name indeed, and what is your gift if again I may ask,” Felladros inquired.
“About this hole, place stones and from such tender as those there build a fire for yourself, so as to keep back the night and I shall enchant a story for you like none other.” He complied and did as she said. From his pack, he took bread and ate as he waited for her to begin.
“Behold, my gift and enchantment talents!” As Felladros watched in amazement she was transformed before his very eyes. Only her body and legs remained a deer, for from is lower neck she had grown and changed into the torso of a naked woman with slender arms and an Elven face. She was still covered and a light coating of pale hair and her brows arched high with deer features. She was beautiful and stunning to behold. Long red hair covered her high breast, and her brown eyes were a radiant grey-blue. The fringed pouch remained slung across her chest and shoulder. Felladros sat down on a fallen tree trunk with words. She said, “This is an Elven-Deer, my friend.”
From her pouch, she withdrew a handful of powder and scattered it across the blaze between them, “Cast your eyes upon the flame and behold the truth of grave matters that were and some yet to be!” The flames leap high in the darkening forest as the quiet man watched in silence. The flame became a spiraling column with fireflies deep within of changing colors and embers circling about. To the sleepy eyes of Felladros there seemed to be moving images within the dancing flames and voices and whispers all around him. She and other spoke as figures came from the shadows and others stood transformed like her. They spoke of things and times and events Felladros was at a loss to recall or explain. But in his heart of hearts, he knew they were true. Suddenly the fire died down to fading embers and a plume of smoke only rose up and her voice alone he heard, “Come what may, all shall pass away and dreams alone shall stay.”
Noon-light fell on Felladros as he woke the next day. The fire was cold, and but for Salom he was all alone. Seeing the fringed pouch resting against the ring of stones told him he had not dreamt his encounter the night before. Gathering himself he ventured a little further and indeed found the pond filled with fish. After a meal at the ring of stones, Felladros decided that the yellow woods of Kinderval had gifted enough, for him. He departed the way he had first entered the forest and continued northward to Sinjar.
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1 Omaylow FORGIVENESS
1 Omaylow
FORGIVENESS
A stranger from the gathered crowd called out, asking, “Master Dwarf, what is forgiveness?”
The prophet Omaylow answered, “The weeping man’s reply from God. It is the wiping away of all those things that once separated him from the divine.”
The stranger replied, “Is even such a thing possible?”
The stout man’s stern eyes softened with, “The root of all forgiveness comes from God; alone.”
The man looked shaken, with guilt written on his face as if only he and the dwarf were speaking in private, “ But - But what of the deed—“
Omaylow’s gruff voice was almost a whisper, “All deeds may be forgiven. It takes great strength not to forgive, but to surrender that pain over to God, for only he knows the heart of the fallen.”
The young man was held back from the edge of tears, whispering back, “But - the guilt and shame of the –“
The dwarf smiled a hearty glow back at him, “Of the deed? God forgives; and what of the wrongdoer? God takes away the wrongdoer’s guilt as the one injured finds healing in the letting go. But, with man, things take time; yet, even then with God all things are in his time, for we are but a frail breath spent in a long day.”
Shaking his head the young man disagreed, “I do not believe such a thing is possible, because—“
The dwarven prophet looked at the man’s wringing hands, “Because - the weight of your guilt presses too much sorrow upon you.”
Almost sounding angry the man came back with, “You do not know what my hands have done, what I allowed the flesh of my body to do. All the gods, and religious traditions and happy thoughts could never undo nor withhold the wrath deserved, from falling upon me. For I -”
Omaylow finished his words and exposed his secret before all, “That you killed a man just three days ago in Sinjar? That your purse for such payment was spent on wine and seven whores in Lindol? That even three tossed coins into a temple passed by, in coming to Mithar was still not enough to aid in ignoring your crime, nor to buy such forgetfulness? That is why God grants his mercy and Grace is not man in the face of a broken heart confession. Only when you stop running, will you see his embrace.
ENOSH
ENOSH
These are the words of Enosh the fifth Prophet of Orid who said, “I tell you now as surely as I am standing here, the people beyond the Misty Mountains of the east, and those ancient fathers of Harad; they held the same faces of disbelief as you now. It is not up to me if you believe me or not, for in truth – I do not care! I am but a messenger. Love and not fear is what Illuva desires, that none should perish. I have done as I was instructed and no less.
“Today is the day you accept filth into your lives no more. In three days you will hear that the king of Mithar is fallen, the city destroyed and the Judges restored; then shall you who need a sign know ‘thus says the Lord of Host.’
“Listen well, for I now tell you a secret Illuva did not forbade me share. Take hope for even after you see these things the end of days has not been accomplished yet. This witnessing generation shall end before gloom washes you away. I speak to those with ears to listen to Nadan’s crows, for they are in flight even now!
“In three days you will see me no more, but lifted up as red as the sunset then made blinding white before all man – and gone!”
“Today is the day you accept filth into your lives no more. In three days you will hear that the king of Mithar is fallen, the city destroyed and the Judges restored; then shall you who need a sign know ‘thus says the Lord of Host.’
“Listen well, for I now tell you a secret Illuva did not forbade me share. Take hope for even after you see these things the end of days has not been accomplished yet. This witnessing generation shall end before gloom washes you away. I speak to those with ears to listen to Nadan’s crows, for they are in flight even now!
“In three days you will see me no more, but lifted up as red as the sunset then made blinding white before all man – and gone!”
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