Deen Mohammed
Stories (39)
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THE CONFERENCE. Content Warning.
THE CONFERENCE The meeting was held at the San Sebastian National Trust Public and Private Meeting Facility Room. The sign above the door stated this and I was still a bit fuzzy in trying to put all of those words in context. The afternoon turtle hangover-remedy stuffing my insides created a lethargy that put the fluorescent lighting of the hallways into a venue that could not be on some Caribbean island but maybe somewhere in the Midwest. The night’s blackness outside the tinted windows isolated my thinking even more in mixing up my geographical fix. I had to take a few deep breaths and look around at the solemn line of people passing through the thick oak doors, which silently swung open and shut. I entered to find a small group of aromas and bouquets surrounded by neon lights and stark white, sterile walls. There was a three inch band of trim around the three sides of the room I could see. Empty folding chairs stood at attention behind a large square of adjoining straight tables. There was nothing in the centre, but a podium was set upon a table at what was to be the speakers’ platform. Behind this were several photos of a beautiful schooner. I went to the photos.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
The Opening Nor'Wester . Content Warning.
The Opening Nor'Wester I wanted to know more. I wanted to learn more after spending most of my life around sailors. The oceans have scared me and brought me to the height of ecstasy and I still wanted to know more, so I started writing stories about others’ experiences as a way of life. a lot of collecting, experiencing, and combining the two. On San Sebastian Island, a lot of old sailors' tales of the sea came out of their sun-damaged mouths. My column on the lives and deaths of those who worked in the sea appeared in the Islands Chronicle, a local publication. A close friend of mine, Harrold, arranged a meeting with a turtle fisherman. So, after hiking through a swampy mosquito infested Red Mangrove forest I arrived at Redfoot Town.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
Journey on HMS . Content Warning.
Journey on HMS The little raft danced on the waves like a dandelion seed on the wind. It was picked up and tossed down and hurled sideways through the water. Five pairs of hands clung on to the splintered beams. Five pair of eyes were clenched shut against the lashing water. Five yells sounded over the noise of the storm as the raft crested a wave and plunged into nothingness, then the voices were abruptly cut off as the water closed over them.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
A PUSH TO TERM . Content Warning.
A PUSH TO TERM We've always wanted to own a boat like this. It provided us with numerous unforgettable experiences, one of which almost cost us our lives. Late in the summer, our sleek 25-foot cruiser arrived. On board, we could eat and sleep. Even a toilet, or "head," as sailors called it, was there. We moored it in a marina on a narrow 110-mile long lake nestled between scenic mountain ranges. The remaining weeks of the summer were focused on learning how to handle the big boat.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
JOPHIEL’S TEAR. Content Warning.
JOPHIEL’S TEAR When Adrian got there, the small town of Rohl was already being severely scorched by the sun. He had had a long journey that led him to cities, towns, farms, and even caves; all based on rumors and legends of a lost treasure of immense power. It was a treasure thought to be from a tear of a goddess or an angel; the embodiment of the being changed depending who he asked, which crystallized into a stone. No matter the variation of the legend they all said the same thing, that this stone housed a powerful magic, the like that has not been seen since the collapse of the Old World. A renewed sense of urgency had recently permeated the rumors surrounding this item. Adrian had first overheard people looking for this item in alehouses and inns during his aimless travels. Words were spoken in these establishments' dark corners or along alleyways, all among the underworld society of witches, warlocks, and people who buy magical items. Adrian was concerned about the ambitions and avarice of some of these members of this society, whom he knew, and what they might do with such a prize. His first step was to find out if this item was based in reality or in a fantastical legend. He asked the only being he felt would know the truth, Samael. Although Samael confirmed that this item was a real object, he would not give Adrian any information about its whereabouts, except for pointing him towards an elderly woman in a city who would be able to help him, and some random pointers along the way when he decided to be around Adrian.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
Not at all roll about . Content Warning.
Not at all roll about In Amoa's pitch-black streets, you can only hear whispers. Never turn your back on the main street church, it is said. Especially if you’re alone. As you wander the asphalt that has been coated with a thin layer of late fall snow, the only company you will find is their cold, breathy warnings. My hair is ruffled by wind. As if telling me to stay away, the strong gusts push me into the street and I stumble. Pulling my beanie lower over my reddening ears, I right myself. Nothing is going to stop me. Neither the wind nor the whispers. Certainly not rationality. I have to know what’s in the church, why no one will pray in it but no one dares to tear it down.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
Arrested by the Abyss. Content Warning.
Arrested by the Abyss He opened his eyes and looked at the board in front of him after taking a deep breath. Millions of posters printed on yellow-tinted paper were scattered and taped together, shouting out their rewards in handwritten and drawn clutter. However, only one of them stood out. oldest in history. the largest in size. highest reward level. It was obvious that everyone’s eyes were to be drawn over there. Just like his were.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
Open-minded . Content Warning.
Open-minded Under the weight of the hundreds of horrified eyes staring at him in stunned silence, Jax could feel all six of his legs buckle. The weekly meeting was usually a boring affair where personal grievances were aired and gossip was exchanged, but every now and then someone had some exciting news about food. Today, Jax was that someone, and when he told the rest of the colony where the new food source he'd discovered was, they all listened in excited anticipation. He knew that part wouldn’t go over well, but he didn’t expect this. It's likely that he should have. “Did you really just suggest we go into the Light?” Grandfather Cluster questioned with incredulity. "Definitely not!" “But…” Jax began.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
The Gold of the Jinn. Content Warning.
The Gold of the Jinn The year was 1920. I, James Rutherford, was traveling with archaeologist Charles Kingsley to the Middle East on an expedition. The treasure of an Arab noble who had been killed in the Christian crusades of the past was our objective. Two years prior, the Great War had ended and Allied forces had occupied many of the territories under the wing of the Outtaman Empire, so though the native populace still thought ill of us (even more so due to their alliance with German and Austrian-Hungary which was in the process of being broken up into two separate countries,) we were still able to get into the country with little difficulty.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
The light of Kaamos. Content Warning.
The light of Kaamos The melting Arctic is a crime scene, and I am like CSI Ny-Ålesund. Trond is the anonymous perpetrator who leaves me with evidence and hints, like breadcrumbs that lead back to him. When we first met at the research institute, he had told me, "Jonna, if you are going to make it up here, don't lock your doors." Instead of being a survival guide, it appeared to be a life philosophy. It is ironic. Out on Kings Bay, the coal miners came first, then the science outposts. Trond was already out here mining the Arctic when I was still just a bright-eyed undergrad, out to save nature from the ravaging capitalists.
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
At Cripple stream, mess . Content Warning.
At Cripple stream, mess They could make out the first water they had seen in four days in the distance. Frank and Celeste, Billy's wife, rode double to follow in Billy's usual manner. The scorching sun was attempting to kill them in the desolate, god-forsaken desert. Instead of being a sand- and cactus-filled desert, the Chihuahuan Desert is a rocky, mountainous region. Tall, rusty, reddish-colored sandstone cliffs dotted the land as the trio entered the New Mexico Territory. They wanted to start over after losing their previous home in Savannah, Georgia, off the north fork of the Broad River. It was a white plantation house with a long road lined with enormous live oaks and green moss sticking out of their branches. An enormous row of ancient oaks formed as a result of their close proximity, which caused them to become intertwined. On both sides of the road, enormous tobacco leaves swayed harmoniously as the wind moved through the rural landscape. The slave quarters were hidden behind the main house and were exceptionally clean and up to date for the time, despite the fact that Frank and Celeste had a room downstairs in the main house. In the unfortunate event that that house caught fire in the spring of 1864, Billy lost his wife. He never found out what caused the fire. After that, because he couldn't bear to stay there, he sold everything and invited Frank and Celeste to go west with him. Frank and Celeste, newly freed slaves, stayed with Billy after he was freed. He is a decent person. He is an honest person. Even before the war, he treated them like people. Billy was well-known for evaluating people based on their actions and impact on the world. "I'll tie the horses, Frank, you get some water, Celeste, you go get in the shade and cool down," Billy said as they stopped on the flat above the water hole. After that, he jumped down and rushed to help Celeste descend. Frank got off his horse and quickly crossed one leg. We wouldn't make it, in my opinion. "Good thing it hasn't dried up on us," Frank said as he gathered the containers. He tried to swallow, but it was pointless because he was dehydrated and his throat was as dry as sandpaper. "Do you require help with those?" Celeste declared. “No. We don't want you to flirt with us, so pay attention to Billy's words now and calm down immediately. Kindly grant me a moment. I treasure you. "I love you as well." Frank: "Enough lovey dovey, get us some water, or we'll all die here." As Frank was filling the canteens and working on the buckets, a gunshot, followed by another, rang out across the landscape. To get to the water hole, Frank carefully navigated the steep slope. "Frank, Frank, help, help, help, help, help, help, NO, NO, GET OFF ME, LEAVE ME ALONE, FRANK, HELP ME!" He tried very hard to get up the steep embankment, but the loose stones made it hard for him to get up there quickly enough. Two men's voices were echoing off the sandstone cliffs—probably more. He fought his way up to the top, where he saw Billy dead. After taking the horses, Celeste was helping them get away. The men and their horses vanished into the distance through the illusion. Until there was silence, the horses' galloping became less and less audible. Celeste had disappeared. "Now, what am I going to do? They have my wife, and I need to get her back, but we are going to ride out into the desert for three days because Billy is dead. It has no effect at all. It doesn't bother me. "I, I have to leave," he thought. When Frank turned back to Billy, his heart once more broke. His friend was hit three times, once in the neck and twice in the head. It was a bloodbath. Frank lost himself and fell to his knees, weeping down both of his cheeks. He cried out in pain as he tried to scoop the grayish-red clumps back into Billy's skull. After that, he realized that he had no choice but to leave his friend. Billy deserved better; he deserved to be honored and buried with dignity; however, Celeste still had a chance, and Billy was powerless to help. When Frank had to search Billy and take his belongings, he felt filthy and disrespectful, making the situation even worse. His 1861 LeMat nine-shot cap-and-ball revolver, also known as a "Grape Shot Revolver" due to the additional 16 gauge buckshot barrel beneath the 42 caliber main barrel, was underneath him when he rolled Billy over. Frank went back to the watering hole with Billy's canteen. While shouldering the canteen, he carried the gun in his waistband. Frank held his fingers horizontally between the sun and the horizon. There are three fingers between the sun and the horizon, three hours of daylight. After that, he started following the scumbags who had taken Celeste and began walking in the direction of Cripple Creek. "I'm coming for you," he murmured, but the desert wind drowned out his words. The thought of the terrible things Celeste might go through made Frank shake. He needed to keep following her through the night, but in the darkness, he might lose her. Regardless, he needed a horse, and Cripple Creek provided the best opportunity for him to acquire one. He thought, "I have to keep my wits about me," but he continued into the darkness, unaware that he would spend two nights wandering through the desert. Frank should have brought Billy's entire water supply, not just the canteen. After his rapid pace had failed to get him anywhere, he collapsed under his own weight because his body wouldn't let him take another step. He was close to death. Knowing he couldn't care for his own friends or family, he lay on the scorching ground and felt completely inadequate. This was his final thought before he fell into darkness with heavy eyelids. Frank was jolted awake by a series of painful blows to the sunburned face. "Thought you was food for the buzzards there for a minute," he said in a rough country voice. He helped Frank get to his feet and gave him some water. "Where are you going with this?" Frank grabbed the canteen and consumed the water so quickly that he nearly choked. After that, he kept drinking. "My wife is with them." “Who?”
By Deen Mohammed11 months ago in BookClub
