ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Last night, I went out at 9pm on my nightly jog. It's a nice, quiet area in southwest FL, woodsy, scenic, no cars or people down the stretch I take, though, it can get very dark sometimes and I am a moderate nictophobe. Still, I love it, especially in the "winter" months (heavy emphasis on the quotation marks there). Another thing I like about it is that it's typically an uneventful area. *Typically.*
I was about a quarter of the way into my jog when I got a hankering to listen to a particular old song I hadn't heard in a long time. I couldn't remember the exact name of it for the life of me. The title wasn't something obvious, it wasn't a popular or well-known song, and I have hundreds of other songs to sort through. So I slowed down to see if I could find it. Sorted by band, by genre, by artist, by playlist- couldn't find it. I wondered if I had deleted it by accident. Stopping on the side of the road, I redoubled by efforts. It was principle now. I was going to find that damn song if it took me all friggin night.
OVER THE TOP of the dubstep I was listening to, I heard a sound that can only be described as the metallic demon shriek of a creature the approximate size and shape of a Giganotosaurus. I swear, I jumped a full two feet off the ground (which is saying something because we fat chicks don't usually get much hangtime when we jump), yanked my earbuds out, scrambled back a few feet, and froze like a terrified deer in the headlights. I stood there unmoving, listening for the direction of the sound so I could fuck off as fast as possible in the opposite direction if need be.
Doleful nightbirds piped their lonely psalms against a soft backdrop of chirring crickets and creaking frogs. Wind whispered through the trees and sighed through the tall grass. I heard nary a sound outside the typical Florida night serenata for a fair while. I began to wonder if perhaps my MP3 player had malfunctioned or maybe I'd heard the unfortunate demise of a Boeing 747 crash-landing into a pile of nails on a chalkboard. I even began to feel kinda silly. That happens sometimes. As an artist, my imagination occasionally gets away from me, especially if it has darkness and shadows to play with.
But then came the sound of water. It was not splashing, no, and it was not a tide or a current either. This is a particular sound that human beings recognize on a deep, instinctual level as it has been inscribed into our DNA through eons of evolutionary success, the very same success consequent of our instinct to run the fuck away when we hear sounds like this- sounds like something *big* moving towards you through water.
The Peace River is maybe a minute's walk from where I was standing. If I was to go off-trail and walk a straight line, it would be less than half a minute. The dinosaurian screech coupled with my knowledge of Florida wildlife brought my mind to the only logical conclusion…
…
…..
…….
Dinosaurs. LAUGH ALL YOU WANT but you did not hear this @#$%^&*ING SOUND. I've never been that interested in reptiles; mammals have always captured my intrigue far more readily, especially cats, but I know for a FACT that alligators do not make *that* kind of noise. They rumble, they hiss, they can even roar, and those are all very impressive sounds. I would know. I went to Corkscrew swamp once and heard it all up-close and pants-shittingly personal. That "rumble" they do vibrates through your whole body and sets your nerves on fire for sure but THIS WAS NOT THAT. This noise was something else entirely. And I was convinced that it was dinosaurs. Or aliens. Maybe alien dinosaurs.
I stood there frozen, half expecting the Indominus Rex to come tromping out of the river, and I heard it again, this time, with perfect clarity, shrieking like a rusty freight train full of banshees careening off the rails. Neegan popped out of the bushes and asked me if I had my shittin pants on which I pointedly did not but at least I had my running shoes and I could haul ass if I had to. Granted, I'm a fat chick, and that's a lot of ass to haul, but trust me, I can run faster and longer than you might think, and believe me, I was thinking about it.
The Shriek mounted to a crescendo reminiscent of some unspeakable horror from the Cthulhu mythos amidst violent splashing, grass rustling, and sticks snapping. Fuck that. I'm out. Later bitches! As I began to jog away, the Cthulhean call waned into a dry, shearing denouement, only to be punctuated with one…
Small.
Single.
Sound.
…
…..
…….
Honk.
I stopped in my tracks and turned around as if someone had said something very rude behind my back, like; "exkyoooooooose me?"
Honk.
I stood frozen in shock with WTF sirens blaring in my head as I tried to figure out which kind of Cthulhean abomination would think it appropriate to follow up an abject, unbridled, pants-shittingly horrific screech with a fucking honk. Like, is this your average, everyday friendly neighborhood Gug riding a bike and letting everyone know that he's just passing through on his way to murder and eat the neighbors? Honk honk! Or maybe it's a Night Gaunt wearing a clown nose and randomly honking it into the darkness of night because that's his fetish. Honk honk! Or maybe it's the great Cthulhu himself arising from the swampy Floridian depths except he's secretly a muppet and that's how he communicates with his henchmuppets, instructing them to corrupt the hearts and minds of children around the globe through Sesame Street. Honk honk! I suddenly remembered a sound from my childhood back in New York when I used to walk through the cemetery which featured a fairly sizeable pond inhabited by…
Geese.
Is that what I was hearing? A goose? Really? ARE. YOU. !@#$%^&ING. SHITTING. ME!? I was about to run home like a little bitch, leaving a trail of terror-shits across Deep Creek… OVER A !@#$%^&*ING GOOSE!? Honk! I AM GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN AND HONK YOU RIGHT IN THE !@#$%^&*ING HEAD, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!
At that point, I was so embarrassed, I felt like I had to earn back some bravery points just for my own peace of mind. Like, I would not be able to sleep at night knowing that I had reacted to a !@#$%^&*ing goose like it was the rise of Cthulhu. I had to go see this "goosethulhu" for myself just to make sure. It was a full moon out so the darkness wasn't bothering me that much… just so long as I did not stare overlongly into the creepy dark pine forest or the Children of the Corn underbrush.
I walked down the trail leading to the river, listening, waiting for goosethulhu to jump out at me. The trail ends in a small, steep bank overlooking the water. It seemed calm and quiet on the surface but there are actually alligators in there so I didn't get too close. People have died that way. I peeked around the corner and there on the shore, a little ways off, sat the Cthulhean horror that had nearly sent me screaming home in terror….
It was a !@#$%^&ing pair of Canadian geese. They were just kinda sittin there, chillin, lookin around. I took my glasses off, facepalmed, put them back on, and walked home in shame. But hey, if Doctor Grant from Jurassic Park is to be believed, they really kinda are dinosaurs in a way, and being that they are *Canadian,* you could say they are aliens. So if anyone asks why I got back from my jog so late last night…
Alien dinosaurs. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I was about a quarter of the way into my jog when I got a hankering to listen to a particular old song I hadn't heard in a long time. I couldn't remember the exact name of it for the life of me. The title wasn't something obvious, it wasn't a popular or well-known song, and I have hundreds of other songs to sort through. So I slowed down to see if I could find it. Sorted by band, by genre, by artist, by playlist- couldn't find it. I wondered if I had deleted it by accident. Stopping on the side of the road, I redoubled by efforts. It was principle now. I was going to find that damn song if it took me all friggin night.
OVER THE TOP of the dubstep I was listening to, I heard a sound that can only be described as the metallic demon shriek of a creature the approximate size and shape of a Giganotosaurus. I swear, I jumped a full two feet off the ground (which is saying something because we fat chicks don't usually get much hangtime when we jump), yanked my earbuds out, scrambled back a few feet, and froze like a terrified deer in the headlights. I stood there unmoving, listening for the direction of the sound so I could fuck off as fast as possible in the opposite direction if need be.
Doleful nightbirds piped their lonely psalms against a soft backdrop of chirring crickets and creaking frogs. Wind whispered through the trees and sighed through the tall grass. I heard nary a sound outside the typical Florida night serenata for a fair while. I began to wonder if perhaps my MP3 player had malfunctioned or maybe I'd heard the unfortunate demise of a Boeing 747 crash-landing into a pile of nails on a chalkboard. I even began to feel kinda silly. That happens sometimes. As an artist, my imagination occasionally gets away from me, especially if it has darkness and shadows to play with.
But then came the sound of water. It was not splashing, no, and it was not a tide or a current either. This is a particular sound that human beings recognize on a deep, instinctual level as it has been inscribed into our DNA through eons of evolutionary success, the very same success consequent of our instinct to run the fuck away when we hear sounds like this- sounds like something *big* moving towards you through water.
The Peace River is maybe a minute's walk from where I was standing. If I was to go off-trail and walk a straight line, it would be less than half a minute. The dinosaurian screech coupled with my knowledge of Florida wildlife brought my mind to the only logical conclusion…
…
…..
…….
Dinosaurs. LAUGH ALL YOU WANT but you did not hear this @#$%^&*ING SOUND. I've never been that interested in reptiles; mammals have always captured my intrigue far more readily, especially cats, but I know for a FACT that alligators do not make *that* kind of noise. They rumble, they hiss, they can even roar, and those are all very impressive sounds. I would know. I went to Corkscrew swamp once and heard it all up-close and pants-shittingly personal. That "rumble" they do vibrates through your whole body and sets your nerves on fire for sure but THIS WAS NOT THAT. This noise was something else entirely. And I was convinced that it was dinosaurs. Or aliens. Maybe alien dinosaurs.
I stood there frozen, half expecting the Indominus Rex to come tromping out of the river, and I heard it again, this time, with perfect clarity, shrieking like a rusty freight train full of banshees careening off the rails. Neegan popped out of the bushes and asked me if I had my shittin pants on which I pointedly did not but at least I had my running shoes and I could haul ass if I had to. Granted, I'm a fat chick, and that's a lot of ass to haul, but trust me, I can run faster and longer than you might think, and believe me, I was thinking about it.
The Shriek mounted to a crescendo reminiscent of some unspeakable horror from the Cthulhu mythos amidst violent splashing, grass rustling, and sticks snapping. Fuck that. I'm out. Later bitches! As I began to jog away, the Cthulhean call waned into a dry, shearing denouement, only to be punctuated with one…
Small.
Single.
Sound.
…
…..
…….
Honk.
I stopped in my tracks and turned around as if someone had said something very rude behind my back, like; "exkyoooooooose me?"
Honk.
I stood frozen in shock with WTF sirens blaring in my head as I tried to figure out which kind of Cthulhean abomination would think it appropriate to follow up an abject, unbridled, pants-shittingly horrific screech with a fucking honk. Like, is this your average, everyday friendly neighborhood Gug riding a bike and letting everyone know that he's just passing through on his way to murder and eat the neighbors? Honk honk! Or maybe it's a Night Gaunt wearing a clown nose and randomly honking it into the darkness of night because that's his fetish. Honk honk! Or maybe it's the great Cthulhu himself arising from the swampy Floridian depths except he's secretly a muppet and that's how he communicates with his henchmuppets, instructing them to corrupt the hearts and minds of children around the globe through Sesame Street. Honk honk! I suddenly remembered a sound from my childhood back in New York when I used to walk through the cemetery which featured a fairly sizeable pond inhabited by…
Geese.
Is that what I was hearing? A goose? Really? ARE. YOU. !@#$%^&ING. SHITTING. ME!? I was about to run home like a little bitch, leaving a trail of terror-shits across Deep Creek… OVER A !@#$%^&*ING GOOSE!? Honk! I AM GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN AND HONK YOU RIGHT IN THE !@#$%^&*ING HEAD, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!
At that point, I was so embarrassed, I felt like I had to earn back some bravery points just for my own peace of mind. Like, I would not be able to sleep at night knowing that I had reacted to a !@#$%^&*ing goose like it was the rise of Cthulhu. I had to go see this "goosethulhu" for myself just to make sure. It was a full moon out so the darkness wasn't bothering me that much… just so long as I did not stare overlongly into the creepy dark pine forest or the Children of the Corn underbrush.
I walked down the trail leading to the river, listening, waiting for goosethulhu to jump out at me. The trail ends in a small, steep bank overlooking the water. It seemed calm and quiet on the surface but there are actually alligators in there so I didn't get too close. People have died that way. I peeked around the corner and there on the shore, a little ways off, sat the Cthulhean horror that had nearly sent me screaming home in terror….
It was a !@#$%^&ing pair of Canadian geese. They were just kinda sittin there, chillin, lookin around. I took my glasses off, facepalmed, put them back on, and walked home in shame. But hey, if Doctor Grant from Jurassic Park is to be believed, they really kinda are dinosaurs in a way, and being that they are *Canadian,* you could say they are aliens. So if anyone asks why I got back from my jog so late last night…
Alien dinosaurs. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
An Odd Thing
An odd thing happened to me awhile ago. It was not profound or magical or worldview-changing- just odd. A few weeks have passed and I’m still not entirely sure what to make of it. One early midsummer evening, I sat on my front porch eating an overdressed salad to a serenade of suburban working class dads all mowing their lawns in unison. A splendid breeze conveyed aromas of lilac and freshly mown grass under a subtle mist of gasoline. The weather was almost unseasonably cool for mid-August- a perfect reason to eat outside and avoid the ever-fulminating chaos inside. I lazily munched on soggy greens while watching a chipmunk dart around under the bee-harried hydrangeas. It was nice. Twilight approached in a phalanx of rose, gold, amber, and lavender led by a vanguard of opalescent cumuli. One by one, the mowers retired, leaving an almost eerie hush in their wake. Much to my gratitude, a breeze eventually broomed away the unpleasant stink of gas. Where the mowers left
State of the Sh!tshow Address #2
It's been a fair few months since my mother died and I'm sad to say that things are not going well. My family always ran like a fucked-up, co-dependent but basically functional jalopy. I was the front wheels. My primary jobs were chores, errands, and working as a commission artist. My BIL, Daniel, was the back wheels. He's developmentally delayed but he's a good boy, capable, and he worked hard. He was responsible for some chores and errands and taking care of his wife (my younger sister) and their child, both of whom are also developmentally delayed. My stepfather, the breadwinner of the family, was the engine. I cannot overstate how pivotal this man has been in keeping the shitshow afloat. I don't know anyone who deserves a long, happy retirement more than him. And then there was my mother, the driver. She steered the shitshow down the long and winding roads. Some months ago, my mother died. Lung cancer. I have been through some next level shit- various kinds of abuse, a murder
State of the Sh!tshow
Bad things happen to everyone, right? That's life. Shit happens. There's always another shoe waiting to drop. I'm sure that's what it's like for most people. We adapt, we deal, we move forward. It's all we can do. But sometimes, I feel like I'm trapped in the midst of a shoe monsoon and I'm not so much waiting for other shoes to drop as I am waiting for the next steel-toed boot to bean me upside the head. My brother in law was just admitted to Montefiore in the Bronx. They think he may have an extremely aggressive form of cancer, possibly leukemia, myoma, or both. We don't know yet. My poor sister is having to go through this only a few months after having lost our mother to cancer. Daniel was a lynchpin of this family and now that he's down for the count, I'm having to step into a lot of the roles he had taken on. I will still be putting out art. That is my job. It is my reason for living. But please be patient. Big, high-detail pieces may take a little longer. I've been thinking
That last journal may have been a lil premature?
Turns out being the primary caregiver for two developmentally delayed adults, their child, ten cats, a disabled stage-4 cancer patient in extremely poor health, and a household, is a LOT more to deal with than I anticipated. Don't get me wrong, I knew it was going to be a lot. Just not quite this much. I don't want to gripe about specifics because (a) we'd be here all day and (b) I don't want to spill that particular tea if I can help it. Some of it's pretty scandalous. All I can do is promise that I'm working towards trying to find some equilibrium in my life and when that happens, there will be more artwork and more activity on my Patreon. That said, addressing my Patrons specifically: If anyone wants to go, please do so guilt-free. I don't want anyone feeling obligated or guilted or anything like that, especially since I've been putting out so little recently. Believe it or not, my biggest problem right now isn't money. Er... not exactly? Let me put it this way: A lotto win would
© 2017 - 2024 BJPentecost
Comments64
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
You're a great storyteller. Always entertaining to read your posts. And by always, I mean the 0.5 times a month I log into DA.
Also... Where I live, geese like to hang out in gaggles of like, 120, and the sound is goddamn deafening when they all get spooked at the same time.
Also... Where I live, geese like to hang out in gaggles of like, 120, and the sound is goddamn deafening when they all get spooked at the same time.