Golden Oak

Golden Oak by Jill Hackett

At the edge of the world, there is only crashing waves. The frothy ocean goes on into infinity until it reaches God.

At one time, man built great ships to sail into God’s Land. They left Earth for different reasons. Some for exploration, more for riches, others in search of divine pleasure, but most for their desire to see and hear the One they loved.

God’s Land gleamed as the sun, and its beauty forever blinded every mortal that entered. With no eyes to guide them, the ships fell mercy to Winds Fate and Free Will. The sailors became lost among the diamond waves of heaven, and though no physical body could experience the suffering of starvation in God’s Land, separation caused their mortal hearts to writhe.

They prayed.

God grew sad that His children’s love had blinded them. So, He created a miracle. At the edge of the world He planted a grand tree and named it “Oak.” God then took rays of sunlight and tied one to the bow of each ship. He cast the rays forward and they fell onto Earth as ribbons made of gold that wound around Oak’s trunk. God could lay these miraculous paths for His children, but now being mortal paths in the mortal world, only mortal hands could touch them. So He waited, and prayed.

They drifted. The sailors had no vision, and so incapable of seeing the golden ribbons, they began to feel that God could no longer hear their sorrow. They grew resentful of Him, and with each passing moment in the glistening waters of God’s Land, they grew darker.

The ships began to weigh with the bitterness of their hearts. It became difficult for even Winds Fate and Free Will to move them. Water spilled onto the deck and washed around the worn feet of sailors, but their souls would not move. They were drowning.

Oak held fast to the edge of the world. The tree could not pull the ships in, but being a creation of God and a creature of Earth, it would bear the weight of all His lost children. Oak waited, and prayed.

A hand. As the ships sank and bodies drowned in the darkening waters, a single mortal reached out. For what, he did not know, but he grasped, feebly at first, as if giving a last farewell to the Earth he longed for and the God that had abandoned him. Golden cloth swirled in the current between those sorrowful fingers. It gently grazed. “At last,” it said.

The twist turned into a grip, of surprise and then of hope. The sailor’s spirit lifted and his body strengthened. He pulled. His might alone was not enough to raise a ship, but the man’s face broke surface. He breathed sweet air as if for the first time, and with it he cried, “Reach out! You have no need to see; reach out!”

On faith, hands sprang from the water like young sprouts, unraveling long tendrils at their ends in search of what they did not know was there to find. The ribbon flowed about their arms, and the sailors grasped. The ribbons grew taut.

They heaved and they hoed with all their resolve. Soon, the great ships began to rise from the sea, pouring gleaming waterfalls from every surface. They pulled, and they pulled, and together they could tread undulating deep through infinity until they reached their home…

Sailors no longer voyage to God’s Land, but they pass their story through generations. Oak still stands at the edge of the world, looking over the endless ocean beyond. Strangely, though every sailor returned to their home, several golden ribbons are still dutifully wound about Oak’s trunk. Their ends are adrift in the ocean, carried by the currents of Winds Fate and Free Will. No one knows who still lingers in the waters of God’s Land, but the sailors wait, and pray, “reach out,” until the ribbons-

-go taut.

Armadillo meat…?

My computer died, so I have to use my absent co-worker’s desk while I wait for systems to fix mine. The condition of the space was so horrifying that I took it upon myself to clean and disinfect everything in the cube. You know it’s bad when you, in all honestly, ask the question “My god, is that…is that armadillo meat?”

Most anticipated film of 2011

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (2011)



I think I was waiting for this movie for… over a year? I forget how long it was between the release of the Part 1 and release of Part 2, but honestly I was waiting to see the epic wizard battle on the big screen since the book was released.

Excellently done. I need to own this one- and I don’t say that very often. The whole Harry Potter series is going to go down in history as a classic, so it’s cool to think that I was there when it happened. Took them forever to get to it, though! I grew up with Harry so I know for a fact those actors were a few years over 17, haha.

Also, as a side note. Am I the only one who thinks Bellatrix has the capacity to be very good looking?

What would be a perfect dream to have tonight? Go as much into detail as you can, describing it.

Oooh the perfect dream?

I think the perfect dream would be a vist to the past. I’d like to have a DnD Friday night with all of my college friends again. Every Friday we’d meet over at JP’s house and gather around the dining room table and play DnD for hours. So much laughter, so much pizza, so many dice…

I don’t really see a need to go into detail about it though. Wouldn’t want to bore you with that, hahaha.

Delivered by Carrier Bat

My friend,

I must admit, the rooftops and docks are lonely without you, despite your incorporeal tendency even when you are present. The initiative has been taken by Maybell and myself to care for your lodgings, particularly your flock of endearing bats, while you are away. The, ah, ‘Out ta Lonch’ sign was removed as to allay suspicions of an empty and vulnerable boat.

Were you aware of my Maybell’s excavations in Spite? I became aware of her dealings after a ‘quid pro quo’ demand involving my injury. Oh, I just remembered you’d already spirited yourself away before that incident. Well, I was attacked by a lizard creature in the mushroom marshes and nearly had my leg torn off. Maybell was kind enough to care for me during my recovery, but only after I admitted the truth. I suppose claiming it was an injury inflicted by the Dutchess’s feline companions was stretching it a bit far, even for her wildly imaginative mind.

I’m writing this letter to divulge to you a concern of mine. While traveling the streets of Wolfstack one night, I stumbled upon a home with front doors wide open. The state of ease to which I could enter was alarming, and so having a curious spirit, I had to peer in.


It was horrible, dear friend, positively nightmarish. A…wolf-like creature, enormous, dark as night with glowing, terrible eyes was attacking a family. Blood had already been splashed about the floors and walls as if it were merely paint. I don’t have the heart to leave screaming children to the whims of such a beast, so I managed to beat it back, but not before it landed it’s own blow that’s marred my skin like no other scar I have previously collected.

Your bite mark from the Eater of Chains. My own is frighteningly similar…
I cannot bare to think of it much longer. Sleep has been difficult enough for me to wrest through. The more recent of my activities, and the one that you may find most interesting, is my guilty pleasure of inconveniencing the Jack-o-smiles. Since diving into the other forms of nightlife that Fallen London has to offer, I’ve developed a very acute sadistic streak involving the Jack-o-smiles. Ever since The Incident at the Men’s Club when he took it upon himself to dismember several of my esteemed colleagues and nearly myself, I’ve been struck with the desire to repay the favor.

Not by dismembering Jack-o-smiles’ colleagues (if he even has any) of course. I’ve found a much kinder way to feed my kindling flame of distaste for the creature. By saving the criminals he’s dibbed. The brilliance, I must say. Doing the public justice as well my more less-lawfully-inclined friends a favor, and simultaneously thwarting the being who has caused myself such trouble.

I’d almost consider it a sport.

Enough about me. I’ve simply missed our long silences and the rocking of your boat beneath the moonish light. Mushroom wine is best with good company. I hope that your bat has managed to deliver this letter to you without interception or suffering harm. It’s rather selfish of me to use her as a carrier pigeon, but of all the creatures of Fallen London, I suspect Oz is the most capable. She’s missed you deeply, and I hope she finds you well, friend.

Return wealthy and soon.
-The Puff

Your first stories/characters.

My first story… Okay, I think I’ll talk about my first novel since I’ve been writing stories since the dawn of time.

My first novel-length story I started writing in 7th grade, which means that I was 12-13. It was a sci-fi story that followed a group of teenagers from an oppressed Earth-based colony who unwittingly unleash a rebellion against their oppressive militaristic government. This group of teens become icons for the rebellion, but their differing political views and social backgrounds puts them at odds with one another. The question ultimately becomes “will they unite despite their differences to end the war, or will they fall into chaos and lead the sides to mutual destruction?”

Interestingly enough, I was 13 years old when 9/11 occurred. Until now, I never thought about the correlation between my epic sci-fi war-story and 9/11, which was essentially the very first major political event of which I was ever consciously aware. Anyway, my lamely titled “Escaping the Power” was the story that started it all. Ever since that moment, I was consumed by writing.

An awful director

M. Night Shyamalan


Questions like this make me feel like a horrible person, honestly. Because obviously the guy’s directed more movies than I have (which is 0. Unless you count my short film. Which would make it 1, which is still fewer than our good friend Shyamalan.)

But I got myself into this mess so now I have to get out of it by answering. So I’ve selected M. Night Shyamalan, and here’s why:

Evidence A: The Village (2004)


In Shyamalan’s defense, The Village was a decent movie. It was pretty much what I expected it to be going in. It didn’t wow me, but I did go with friends and I had a fun two hours in the theater. If I go to a movie and have fun while I’m there, I consider it successful. I present The Village as Evidence A, however, because this is the beginning of an eight-year landslide to train-wreck city. Most of the reviews for this movie were negative, and I can see why. If you go into it looking for the twist ending, you’ll be disappointed to find it’s obvious within the first twenty minutes.

Evidence B: Lady in the Water (2006)


I’m hard pressed to say which is more boring: Twilight or Lady in the Water. I suppose a redeeming quality of this movie is that it’s NOT Twilight.

Evidence C: The Happening (2008)


A movie in which nothing happens.

And most importantly, I present to you…

Evidence D: The Last Airbender (2010)


It’s one thing to screw up your own movie. It’s another to screw up mine.

The Last Airbender is based off of this awesome cartoon. Of which I’m a huge fan. And this movie is an unforgivable slight against an exciting, well-developed, well-loved, respectable animated television series.

The Last Airbender is riddled with scenes that were obviously designed to hold kick-ass CG effects that weren’t there. The story deviates drastically (and for the worse) from the series. The races of the characters make no sense. It was anti-climatic. They repeatedly mispronounced the main character’s name. And worst of all, it gave the cartoon series a bad rep for anyone who hadn’t seen it yet.

To be honest, it’s this movie that makes me answer the question of “an awful director” with one M. Night Syamalan.

At least Appa was pretty cool.