1001 Albums 476-490: Led Zeppelin II - Liege and Lief

Note: It returns and I am guessing with a much anticipated list. Enjoy.

Led Zeppelin II (1969) by Led Zeppelin
Led Zeppelin III (1970) by Led Zeppelin
Led Zeppelin IV (1971) by Led Zeppelin
Leftism (1995) by Leftfield
Legalize It (1976) by Peter Tosh

First Five at a Glance: Led Zeppelin dominates this group, and I can already see the smile crossing Snake’s lips. Here’s my brief take on these, I am sure the discussion will go further than this. Zep II cements the Zeppelin sound as Page, Jones and Bonham blend into a chorus of havoc. “Whole Lotta Love,” is as important of a song to its genre as any other. Zep III is a melding of hard rock and acoustic folk. “Immigrant Song” stands above as the hit from this album. I know Zep IV the best with eight powerful tracks, only “When the Levee Breaks” took time for me to warm too. The rest are power and beauty clashing. Peter Tosh is a former member of the Wailers, the backing band for Bob Marley. Take a guess on what he wants to legalize. Leftism is a dance album, you know pulsating sounds that repeat over and over and over and over.

Let It Be (1984) by the Replacements
Let It Bleed (1969) by The Rolling Stones
Let Love Rule (1989) by Lenny Kravitz
Let’s Get It On (1973) by Marvin Gaye
Let’s Get Killed (1997) by David Holmes

Second Five at a Glance: The Replacements “Let It Be,” was put there only to confuse me into thinking there was some sort of typo in the book. The Stones “Let It Bleed,” is a sharp contrast to old rivals the Beatles, who released “Let It Be” around the same time. The Stones gave us sex, drugs and violence, the Beatles ballads and breakup. I think the Beatles album should have made it here also, but the Stones may have been more in touch with the times. “Gimme Shelter” opens the album and that is one of the top tunes in the Stones catalog. Marvin Gaye focuses on the sex, but also interestingly enough uses a T.S. Eliot quote in the sleeve of the album. That’s an interesting mix. I’ve always thought Kravitz was a bit pretentious and had a lot of unrealized talent. “Let’s Get Killed,” sounds like an interesting social experiment. It takes real interviews with the underbelly personalities of New York and mixes them with rock, techno, funk and latin-styles.

Let’s Stay Together (1972) by Al Green
The Lexicon of Love (1982) by ABC
The Libertines (2004) by The Libertines
Licensed to Ill (1986) by Beastie Boys
Liege and Lief (1969) by Fairport Convention

Third Five at a Glance: Licensed to Ill may be as important of a rap album as there has ever been. It introduced to the massive, white teenage public to the genre. While songs like “Girls,” and “Fight for Your Right,” catch in the immature, tunes like “Brass Monkey,” and “No Sleep Till Brooklyn,” force brighter folk to keep listening. Let’s Stay Together is a soul classic. The album takes some risks and is the height of Green’s brief career. Fairport Convention was an early folk band that started to use electric instruments. Singer Sandy Denny was a big influence on Robert Plant. They kept calling ABC a punk band, I hear more New Wave. The two frontmen of The Libertines apparently hated each other to the point they had bouncers at the studio to prevent fights, the music reflects this constant tension.

The Goods: Led Zeppelin II, III, IV; Let It Bleed, Let’s Get It On, Let’s Stay Together, Licensed to Ill

Something to check out: I’d put Let’s Get Killed, The Libertines and Fairport Convention all on this list for very different reasons.

Verdict: This is an excellent group filled with hard rock standards and classic soul sounds. From top to bottom, we may not get a better group that this. The top albums are great and the one’s in the middle are good artists and the ones on the bottom are not completely terrible.

501 Must-See Movies: 'Charade' to 'A Clockwork Orange'

Charade: 1963, USA (Mystery & Thriller)

Right out the gate the author contradicts himself by saying this movie doesn’t fit into any one genre even though he has clearly classified it as a mystery and thriller. Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn star in this suspenseful mystery. Sounds like a good movie.


Charge of the Light Brigade, The: 1968, Great Britain (Action/Adventure & Epic)

There is nothing like a British movie about their involvement in the Crimean War during the 19th century. As with most war movies of the late sixties, the theme is mostly anti-war.


Chicago: 2002, USA (Musical)

I have never seen this recent hit. Many people seem to enjoy it though. With the sort of tribute to 1920’s Chicago lifestyle, I should give it a chance sometime.


Child’s Play: 1988, USA (Horror)

Chucky is a classic icon of horror. Pumping the franchise dead with crappy squeals may hurt the reputation of the film, but even those who haven’t dared to watch it know who the doll is and what movie it came from. The book states it is the last quality example of the 1980s vicious slasher.


Children of Paradise: 1945, France (Drama)

40’s black and white French drama with a mime as a main characters reeks of not good to me. It is most famous for being shot during the occupation of France during World War II and no doubt why it would be heavily remembered.


Chinatown: 1974, USA (Mystery & Thriller)

This is a true cinema classic and a defining role for Jack Nicholson. It was the first movie Roman Polanski made after his wife was murder by the Manson family which probably leads to the down, despairing feel of the movie. It may be one of the greatest mysteries of all time.


Citizen Kane: 1941, USA (Drama)

Most people will point to this as the greatest movie ever and rightfully so. Its influence can be seen in the film industry since. Orson Welles was only 25 years old when he co-wrote, starred in and directed the movie.


City of God: 2002, Brazil (Mystery & Thriller)

This movie sounds so interesting. It tells the gritty story of Rio through the eyes of two youth. The film is gritty and violent as murder and robbery are everyday events for all the people of the slums. It was shot using hand held cameras that led to very inventive camera work. I am putting this on my list to try to watch as soon as possible.


Cleopatra: 1934, USA (Action/Adventure & Epic)

Cecil B. DeMille went over the top in great classic Hollywood fashion. It is campy and stretches the historical truth for full movie effect. Everything everyone loves about old Hollywood film making.


Clockwork Orange, A: 1971, Great Britain (Science Fiction & Fantasy)

This film caused plenty of controversy upon its release. Due to the subject matter of violence, it was of course blamed for every current act of crime. The movie shows a dystopian future that really isn’t too far off from our current state. It is one of my favorites.

Red's CD Project Story 2:Afterword

Heir of Doom: A brief discussion

My initial intention with doing the afterword was to mimic very much what I did with the afterword that I wrote after the first CD Project. I thought I’ll sit down and open a nice long conversation on everything going on in this story. I’d like to talk about my thought process and the story growth. Discuss all the characters and the point they serve to the story.

I’d like to do all of that and more.

But I can’t for two reasons.

One. This is not really finished. Not only is it obvious that this is simply the first part in a much longer tale, but there’s a lot of rewriting, editing and restructuring to be done. Expounding on all these things would perhaps mislead, misdirect or ruin things to come.

Second. Most of that stuff above I don’t really know yet and the stuff that I do, I can’t say that I really understand. So anything I’d say would be a lot of B.S.

So I guess that’s it. Thanks for reading.

I’m kidding.

There is something more I can say.

This was hard. Very hard. Almost to the point that on several occasions I just wanted to run up the white flag.

What was hard?

The length (no sicko thoughts here please): I’ve never put in so much work into something of this length. It was hard keeping track of every detail and character. Hell, my main antagonist disappears from the story for pretty much the last ¾ of the work. I mean what’s he doing all that time? I wish I could answer that. Plus, I've submitted opening pages twice to that damn Page to Fame thing and was shot down.

The process: While I think using the lyrics and the CDs worked really well for the first CD project, it was entirely different this go-around. The content made it somewhat harder to fit lyrics while at other times I had more lyrics than I knew what I could do with. Moreover, I had a story that from the get-go was disjointed. I mean I had a ton of Oan and Nestor than midway through I introduce a whole gaggle of characters and the second half becomes all about them.

The characters: Oan is a tough guy to deal with. Abrasive. The twins have to be similar, but can’t be the same. The witch (I mean damn, she throws a monkey wrench on making this a nice clean, contained story), along with everyone else.

The list of difficulties goes on and on, but there was one thing that made this harder than anything else I’ve done.

To explain this, let me tell a story. I remember coming to the line of scrimmage in a high school football game my senior year. This is unique, in itself, because I remember very few plays from prospective of being on the field. Everything I have now is remembered from highlight tapes.

But I remember this play, not only because of what happened, but what happened right before.

As the center, I broke the huddle and came to the line first. As I was bending down to grab the ball, I saw the defense shift. It was a short yardage play on third down about 30 yards from the end zone. The defense moved 10 guys into the box. We made the line calls and as I grabbed the ball. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. This was going to be a touchdown. I could see it clearly how exactly the play was going to work before it happened. Then it did.

My problem with this project is that I could not see this story clearly, but I could feel it was there. Like when you wake from a dream, then feel slowly recede from your memory. I knew it was in me, but it was lost.

But I knew it was there and I knew that the damn thing was going to hit me right between the eyes in the very last section. I didn’t know how.

But I knew it was going to happen then.

So that made this whole process terribly frustrating because I wanted, probably more than my faithful reader, to skip to the damn ending so I could figure out what the hell I was dealing with.

So I toiled. The writing sometimes slipped. The ideas slowed. I got addicted to a trivia website called sporcle (Snake, if you haven’t been there, go but beware it’s addicting).

Then I came to that last song. I sat down and I typed the following lines.

The dark is like death, but deeper and longer and colder. Like standing for the first time at a high altitude, the air is drawn away from the lungs, siphoned from the body while the lips and tongue pant to catch it. The dark is like death, but not final.

No, not final, my friends walking this long journey beside me. Not final.

There is light, and like all light, it appears with no discernible start...

As the lines ran through the first part of that last section, I realized I had it. The key. I had only been seeing this place like a dream that shifts and bends too much to understand. In order for me to piece all this together I had to… Well I had too… awake.

It had been before my eyes all along.

“Life is a dream then you awake.”

So while this may not make a lot of sense right now, I will leave you with the following.

I wrote this the other day realizing this is how the long journey has to begin.

The Dreamer

I hear you out there, my friends. I hear the soft shuffle of sheets as you roll over and the faint scratching of air blowing between tiny hairs inside your nose. I also hear the panic in the buried thoughts of your subconscious and the unreasonable quickening of your heart. You’re asking yourself, “Is this real?” I ask, “What is real?” For my friends, we all drift through fantasies and realities without any verifiable proof of truth.

But that, my friends, is not the point.

As I was saying, I hear you very well. I know you’re there, even though I cannot see you for I am in the in-between where it is very dark. Very dark, indeed. The dark is like death, but deeper and longer and colder. Like standing for the first time at a high altitude where the air is siphoned from your body while your lips and mouth pant to trap it. The dark is like death, but not final.

No, not final.

There is light, and like all light, it appears with no discernible start. We can chase this light, you and I, if you so like. I must warn that such tricks, such excursions can cause irreparable harm. Take this chance, my friends, to turn back and wander the dark till morning. Then awake.

“Life is a dream, then you awake.”

Some of you have gone, but the multitude remains. Very well. You have been warned. Now, where was I?

While the two, light and dark, spend eternity denying each other’s existence, there cannot be one without the other. For they, like all of you of many where’s and when’s, are weaved, forever tangled together.

But that, my friends, is not the point. Not the point at all.

See the light, brilliant and tragic, cascading, pouring, streaking, drowning out the dark. Then swirling, swirling, swirling, swirling, swirling…

Now form.

“Paw and claw and hand.”

See it through my milky, white pupils that view nothing and everything. The paw digs and tears. The claw burns and consumes. The hand. Well, the hand provides and denies.

Now form.

See it now, my friends, for soon rest will come for the weary. Soon dark once more. But, for now, see it.

A boy, very near a man, stripped to the waist, his golden skin draped in a blanket of light and shadow from a late-summer sun fighting through the branches of a tall, old oak. The great river, very near, covers his movements. He stands stiff on one foot, slowly raising a spear in his right hand. This boy, fated to carry three swords into the end of all things, prepares to strike.

See it now.

The great river – one not meant to be crossed, not meant to be entered – and a bloated, blue carcass floating face up with one remaining eye staring at the sky. Can you hear him, my friends, muster just enough of a shout to perk up vigilant ears?

See it now.

See them all. The entire cast of hope and doom spilled forth before you. The fated boy. The one-eye man. The witch. The twin kings. The ailing queen and her daughter. The obedient servant. The fat mayor. The ambitious jezebel. The grotesque children and the demon.

“You’ve done this.”

“You’ve done this?”

“You’ve done this.”

“YOU’VE DONE THIS!”

Hear the voices, my friends. A million voices, from a million dreams, from a million worlds, all waiting for you and I in the dark. I did warn you of the consequences.

“Come now, heir of doom. Come and let’s put an end to this. Come, let’s begin anew.”

Come now, my friends. See the boy save this reckless man. See it all. See it now.

Tales From Lincoln - A Review

Note: I didn't get the official track names to this CD, which actually made it quite fun trying to guess who all the bands and songs were, so if I am incorrect please let me know. I used a little gadget on my phone that will listen to songs and tell you what they are.


“All I Can Do Is Write About It” – Lynyrd Skynyrd

This song blew me away. This is by far my favorite on this CD. I was puzzled trying to figure out if it was really Lynyrd Skynyrd because I have never heard it before and thought for sure that something this good by them would’ve hit my ears before. To me it really speaks for the tone of this CD and the concept of Red writing about people in Lincoln. So glad I know this beautiful song now as it speaks to my person feelings of living in the sticks and enjoying the beauty of the country.

“Either Way” – Wilco

I had heard of Wilco and saw them on the Tonight Show or something like that. I was interested to hear more of their stuff but didn’t really want to invest anything into it. This song is okay for me. I really like the little guitar solo towards the end that sounds kind of Latin inspired to me.

“The Old Apartment” – Barenaked Ladies

I have a CD by these guys but it doesn’t have any of these songs on it. This sounds like a live CD. I like the imagery of the song reminiscing about the past and distant times. It reminds me a college.

“A Murder One” – Counting Crows

This sounds like most Counting Crows I’ve heard. The drum rhythm really sticks out to me in this song. The song seems slow yet the drums have these quick little eighth notes in the middle of the beat. I find myself focusing on it every time I hear this song because it just fascinates me.

“No Way Back” – The Foo Fighters

This starts a little block of songs that I already had or knew. This is a great song and probably my favorite out of this Foo Fighters’ album. I like how it fits into the dynamic of this CD upon which I will expound later.

“Beverly Hills” – Weezer

Weezer is awesome at everything they do. There is nothing like a little SoCal love song. I had the hardest time tying this into the theme of the CD that I had running through my head.

“Inside Out” – Eve 6

I remember writing a crappy free writing exercise to this song. Actually, it turned more into a rant. I always seem to fight with myself as to the true meaning or message to this song. I think for this CD it fits into the idea of being stuck somewhere and the insanity it brings to the individual. But that is just me.

“Brian Wilson” – Barenaked Ladies

I love this song, second favorite on this CD. I had a hard time figuring out the lyrics at first. I kept thinking he was saying, ‘lying in bed just like Brian Wilson dead.’ This caused a great deal of internal conflict being sure that Brian Wilson was in fact not dead and thus why would the lyric say that. Once I got that straighten out, the song opened up for me, the idea of trying imitate our heroes whether it be writing songs, writing stories, playing sports, anything.

“DOA” – Foo Fighters

I have always liked this song but struggle to find the real, intended meaning. But it fits into this image I am building in my head of Lincoln and the dread of people feeling stuck there to die with no way of getting out alive.

“Perfect Situation” – Weezer

This is a little slower Weezer song that comes out very beautiful in the lyrics. I enjoy the chorus; it usually gives me goose bumps when I hear it. Soft young love turning into heartbreak.

“Open Road Song” – Eve 6

This song always makes me want to jump into a crappy car or an old truck and just drive fast down some country back roads. I like the line, ‘although I have no where to go but home.’ I remember taking many of those drives in our youth.

“Walken” – Wilco

This is 3rd best for me on this CD. I enjoyed this song from the first note I heard. The piano is fantastic and the slide guitar blends into this amazing mix of jazz, blues and country tones. It makes me want to love Wilco. The short jam in the middle is mind numbingly good leaving me wanting so much more that I spend the whole outro hoping it comes back to that jam as they just tease you with the same rhythm setup without committing to the same jam until that last note fades out to the distance.

“No Woman, No Cry” – Bob Marley & The Wailers

I’ve struggled at times to get into Bob Marley. This song is pleasant. It is hard for it to do anymore for me than that. Maybe it is the fact that I always feel like I can’t enjoy Marley. It isn’t meant for me.

“King of the Thing” – O.A.R.

I’ve heard a little bit of O.A.R. but am no where near the fan Red is. Their sound seems a bit fuller than what I seem to remember. The song is good. I don’t know if they are still something I am going to seek out on my own.

“Jesus Nitelite” – Eve 6

This is a nice softer side to Eve 6 than I had gotten to hear before. I really don’t know what to think about this song though. It confuses me to the point that I don’t think I could ever ‘get’ this song, which is strange because it doesn’t seem that complex. Maybe it is just my brain going haywire.

“What Light” – Wilco

This song is a very pretty way to close out this CD. I feel the theme is very similar to the open song giving a good full circle aspect to the project. It makes me feel warm and even though we just went through strife in the previous songs, it will be okay in the end. We are what we are.


In summary, I don’t know if Red was trying to throw a concept at me or not, but that is what I got out of it. Once I read the title of ‘Tales From Lincoln,’ I immediately started thinking of his collection of stories about people from Lincoln and how messed up their lives were. That leads me into trying to tie all the songs together into some tapestry leading off with a song talking about writing and being in love with the country surroundings then shooting off into memory, joy and strife of people found within that town and coming back around to end in a soft song telling me it will be okay in the end. But that is part of the beauty with music, three to four minutes doesn’t give much time for huge description leaving plenty of vagueness for anyone to weave in their own ideas. That is why I love doing this.

Red's CD Project Story 2: Part 40 – Lunar

Note: Well this it. Whew! I am going to do sort of a review post in the next week or two like I did for the first CD project talking about this whole experience. For the record, this file is 168 single-spaced pages in Word, which adds up to 71,379 words. Yikes.

Disc 2

Track 17: Tangled Up in Plaid by Queens of the Stone Age

“A self-inflicted wound, your Gift,
Impeccable aim
Can really clear a room
All the bodies piled in your way
Oh yeah
(it hurts so bad)
(It must oh yeah)

I could keep you all for myself
I know
You gotta be free
So free yourself

I could keep you all for myself
I know
You gotta be free
So kill yourself


The dark is like death, but deeper and longer and colder. Like standing for the first time at a high altitude, the air is drawn away from the lungs, sipphoned from the body while the lips and tongue pant to catch it. The dark is like death, but not final.

No, not final, my friends walking this long journey beside me. Not final.

There is light, and like all light, it appears with no discernible start. It’s just there. While the two, light and dark, spend eternity denying the other’s existence, there cannot be one without the other. For they are weaved, forever tangled together.

But that, my friends, is not the point. Not the point, at all.

With light comes the colors, brillant and tragic, cascading, pouring, streaking and drowning the scope of vision. Then swirling, swirling, swirling, swirling, swirling…

Then form.

“Paw and claw and hand.” His eyelids open, his milky, white pupils see nothing and everything. The paw digs and tears. The claw burns and consumes. The hand. Well, the hand gives and takes.

Then form.

See it my friends, for soon rest will come for the weary. Soon dark, once more. But for now, see it.

There is a city atop the great mountain with seven layers, with each layer above about half the size of the one below. On the seventh layer, there is a hall. Where the last great king sat upon a marble throne before a thousand stone stools. Sculpted along the walls are twelve ancient figures lost to most of the world today. They were the old heroes from an even older age, an even older dream. When the blood of Marek pumped straight from the heart of the mighty, the hall glowed from a huge golden chandelier with a thousand candles burning bright and the air was filled with laughter and shouts and cries and all the sounds of a living, breathing kingdom.

See it now.

Echoes, faint echoes, still bounce from stone to stone. They are weak, almost lost. The warmth. The fire. The light. All gave way to shadow at the madness of Tarek Grandar at the end of the last age. In the corners, spiderwebs hang from the ceiling to the floor where they are met by piles of rat dung. The thousand stone stools have crumbled. The marble throne is chipped and faded and leaning, but not empty. No, not empty at all.

See it now.

“Metahischoo!”

He has something wrapped up lying upon his lap. He’s seen it once, long enough to forge it. That was enough to claim his waking eye’s sight. In the distance, there are footsteps. At last, they have arrived.

“You’ve done this.”

“You’ve done this?”

“You’ve done this.”

“YOU”VE DONE THIS!”

A million voices, from a millions dreams, from a miilion worlds all floating in the dark.

“Come now, Heir of Marek. Come and let’s put an end to this. Come, let’s begin anew.”

Come now, friends. See the great hall. See the Dreamer. See the boy and his one-eyed companion. See it all. See it now.


* * *

Cassar escorted Oan and Nestor through the seven levels. The rest of the Keepers followed well behind. Even though the great city had been denied the gargola and his people since the end of the last age, Cassar knew the way through the six levels of the city till they came to one last final dark staircase.
“I will go no further,” Cassar stopped. “Tarek Grandar’s hall is forbidden ground for us. Follow these stairs up to the hall. I believe the Dreamer will be waiting for you.”

Oan turned to the gargola, who despite his menacing size and bulging muscles had a contrasting gentleness in the wide features of his face. His eyes, like the eyes of all the Keepers were tinted with melancholy.

“The days of Tarek Grandar have passed, Cassar,” Oan reached out, but the giant lurched back. “With it, his curses.”

Cassar’s shoulders slumped. With it came a batch of wrinkles that stretched out across his face. It was impossible to know how old the gargola was by looking. At first glance, Oan had thought that he and Cassar might have been about the same age. Now it appeared, Cassar was much older. Maybe even ancient.

Now the gargola stepped forward, reached out his arm. Oan’s shoulder disappeared under the gargola’s huge hand. Oan could feel ungodly strength in each finger.

“Perhaps, my king,” Cassar said. “But we have yet to atone for our transgressions. Only then will our curse lift. For now, we must part.”

The gargola released Oan, and walked away never once looking back. Oan returned the steps with Nestor at his side and took his first step.

* * *

They entered the hall on the opposite end of the throne, their footprints marking their trail in a layer of grim and dust. Before them was the vision of broken hopes and dreams. Along both sides of a long aisle, stone stools were toppled and broke. Up ahead, the throne loomed, actually leaned to one side from a cracked leg.

Sitting upon the throne was the small man, his green cape draped over his shoulders, his white shirt billowing out, his sightless eyes staring across the room at them. Oan exhaled. All these miles and it was back to that frail man, who at the start of the journey had presented him with Kekur.

Drawing the sword, Oan marched across the room. Around him an old wind started to swirl. Nestor stayed back, cowering away from the man in the throne and the fearful echoes blaring in his ears. Oan ignored those. It was the man he was here for. When he reached the throne, the small man smiled, his white teeth glowed behind.

“I dream of a field of white roses where a breeze, warm and moist, blows eternal,” the man’s voice was now deep and slow, unlike the high-pitched boy-like voice from before. “I sit upon a hill overlooking this valley with a lion and a dragon, paw in claw in hand. I see green eyes that smile with no lips. I live, I breathe and days go by.”

“I have heard all about your dreams before,” Oan said between gritted teeth. They had come all this way to see this man again.

“Life is a dream, then we awake,” The Dreamer chirped and placed his hands on a long bundle on his lap.

“What has all this been about?” Oan pointed Kekur at the man.

“I have been dreaming for a very long time. I’ve had more dreams than I can remember, but I remember you very clear. A man just finished being a boy, tall with long, dark hair and broad shoulders. His skin dark brown from days under the sun; his blood cold; his heart stone, a man destined for the great battle. A man carrying three blades.”

Oan dropped to his knees, his heart pumped so slow that it reverberated in his ears.

“I am tired.”

“You cannot rest. Not yet.”

“No.”

“Heir of Marek, you have reached Metahischoo. Now claim, your throne, your kingdom and your line.”

“I know none of this.”

“Then you ignore you’re dreams.”

“I do not dream.”

“Life is a dream, then we awake.”

“I am tired.”

“I dream of a river of fire burning with no end. A gold throne soaked in blood and a million glowing eyes peering from every shadow. Death, sorrow, paw and claw and hand. Agony rolling like thunder on the wind.”

“No more dreams.”

“This is no dream.”

Oan raised his head and the man was standing before him, the bundle from his hand stretched in offering to Oan.

“There are three swords destined for your hand, King of Marek,” the Dreamer said. “Now, claim the second. The bane of Salama. The scar of Old Moon. Wound of the heavens. Lunar made by thy successor. Release its glory. Unleash its terror once more.”

Every voice in his head screamed “NO!” even the voice of Kekur. It had been an age since the two swords had been together. Oan reached up, grasping the bundle and stood.

“If this is the second sword of three. What of the third?”

“One demon at a time, my boy. One at a time.”

Oan turned away from the Dreamer. Way back in the corner of the room, Nestor cowered in a shadow.

Unwrapping the cloth from around the blade, which seemed to have no weight at all, Oan could feel warmth growing across the room. The blade was white with a black hilt. When it was completely unsheathed a great light burst forth, blinding everything.

“Life is a dream, then we awake.” The Dreamer’s voice crept into his head. Oan fumbled to cover the sword again. As he did, the light receded. The hall before him was changed. Gone were the spiders and dung. Gone were the shadows. Above him, a brilliant gold chandlier hung with a thousand candles all lit. Down both walls great fireplaces roared and the statues along the walls were returned to their former glory. The stone stools stood perfectly in a hundred even rows. Oan noticed that Nestor had fled from his corner and could sense, he thought through the sword, that the man was hiding on the stairway.

Oan looked back to find the polished marble throne empty. The Dreamer was gone and Oan thought it had something to do with the blinding light. He rides the light, Oan thought.

Oan sat on the throne and soon a precession of Keepers filed into the hall. They walked up to him single file, knelt, and begged forgiveness. He gave it. Cassar was the last of that line.

“I, Cassar Gar, Steward of Marek, beg forgiveness for failing the True King.”

“Rise, Steward, and witness Marek. Think of old transgressions no more.”

Cassar rose, and took his place on a stool in the front row. All the stools were full.

“A great evil has returned,” Oan began. “We chased it away once. We shall do it again.”

A cheer followed while outside a great wind swirled, removing an age of dust and shadow. The fires of Metahischoo burned again.

The wind carried down the mountain to the plains where the nomadic remains of Rion, now known as Aldroubi, stopped a hunt and looked curiously to the north.

The wind carried across the Belnor to a woman and a girl, huddled against a log while hiding beside a road. The two were being followed, but by who or what they could not figure. The wind chased their scent away from their followers and the two sighed in relief.

The wind carried to Union Hall at Omet where a once proud King shivered with fever from a wound. Hovering over him, his cousin prepared a plan to make sure the King never regained his health.

The wind carried to a woman traveling with two dark robed figures. All three pulled their cloaks tightly around them, a sudden and rare sense of fear coursed through them.

The wind carried to Stra where another King dressed his wounds, some with cloth and some with strong ale and a stronger malice.

Finally, the wind came to a stop at Noce in the kingdom of Nocnil. All the lights had long ago left Noce, and now in the darkness, a fork-tongued demon wailed.

501 Must-See Movies: 'Brief Encounter' to 'Catch-22'

Brief Encounter: 1945, Great Britain (Romance)

From what I gather, this film is a classic cause it was middle class and did not have a happy ending. The book calls it a five-hankie movie so if you dare to watch get ready for the water works.


Bringing Up Baby: 1938, USA (Comedy)

Howard Hawks’ screwball comedy is full of double entendres, witty dialogue and slap stick. Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn star in this classic that like many others did not fare well in the box office but gained popularity over time


Bullitt: 1968, USA (Mystery & Thriller)

Forever know for its classic car chase sequence that was the granddaddy of them all, Bullitt is actually considered one of the greatest police dramas ever. Still you talk about it and people will only remember that Steve McQueen drove a car around San Francisco.


The Burmese Harp: 1956, Japan (War)

“The Burmese Harp achieves its power and poignancy through the juxtaposition of the horror of war with the beauty of nature.” I didn’t figure I could describe it better. Some of these old foreign films can be difficult.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid: 1969, USA (Western)

This is a great movie that I would not classify as your classic western. It is more of a buddy picture with such great report between Paul Newman and Robert Redford that produces memorable lines throughout. It is without a doubt a much see for anyone as a timeless classic and one of my all time favorites.


Cabaret: 1972, USA (Musical)

The book loves this movie in an over gushing way. Liza Minnelli gave a perfect performance and the characters are contemporary and fashionable. It was set in 1930 Berlin which seems extremely odd to me, but I am not sure why. It may be more because it was made in the seventies and that usually makes me leery when it comes to musicals.


Camille: 1936, USA (Romance)

“Turn what could have been a tear-jerker into a classic.” That final line in the book confuses me. I don’t quite understand what that implies. A tear-jerker is not a classic? What about Brief Encounter as detailed above? Anyway, now I can say I know a movie that Greta Garbo starred in playing the ‘definitive movie mistress.’


Carrie: 1976, USA (Horror)

This is probably the best Stephen King adapted movie, well after Stand By Me and Maximum Overdrive of course. This is the role that everyone thinks of first when you mention Sissy Spacek. Don’t really know what else there is to say about it, the book was sort of middling in its praise for it.

Casablanca: 1942, USA (Romance)

Eternal is the word I would use to describe this movie. It will never go away and forever be referenced in everything pop culture until time stops. Bogart is at his best as an anti-hero.

Catch-22: 1970, USA (War)

While a black comedy on the insanity of war is not an original concept, the all star cast of this picture puts it over the top. Alan Arkin, Orson Welles, Anthony Perkins, and Jon Voight deliver the goods. The catch 22 being that Arkin tries to get out of the military via insanity except that his ability to complete the necessary paperwork proves him sane. In the end, he is the sanest person in his company. Sounds about right.