Claim Type: Sedentary Tech Era: Neolithic Economy: Opt-in! The following chronicle will not come close to airing the full grievances of its people, nor will it adequately convey their collective joys across the sea of time. In truth, the author cannot sincerely claim that they are fortunate enough to recall the richness of a single life among the millions who are within the purview of this text. Instead, the author merely wishes to attest to the innocence of many, the guilt of few, and the remembrance of bygone days. Many strands will be weaved into this tapestry of tales, but first we will begin with only two. From the east, wanderers are finding their own refuge by the Krong River, having toiled long enough to lose their names, but not their gods. From the north, the tribe of Minzha have come home to work the earth, and from the soil they raise great walls that cut through rivers and fields alike. This is where we set the scene, and may the rest be history. Outside the Walls, 2950 BCE Shivering, the Kuor sisters huddled close as the rain grew louder. A small fire was struggling in front of them, giving just enough light for the sisters to see each other’s furrowed faces. Lang, the youngest, was furtively inching her hand to and away from the flame. After stretching out her arm for quite some time, she eventually gave up and let it hang loose at her side, muttering something about gloves. “I’ve been counting the time since the rain started,” said Yon, the middlest. Duang, the sleepy one, mumbled in return. “So, how long has it been?” Yon breathed in, as if to declare an impressively specific number. “Too long.” The sisters would have shared a disappointed silence after that, had the rain left them alone. “One of you, tell me a story,” said Lang, eyes set on a soaked twig at her feet. Stories were usually left to dad, but he was getting drenched at the Walls. The sleepy one stretched, or shivered in a new direction. “If I must. How about a story about Death?” “Ah yes,” muttered Yon, “our lifelong friend.” Lang just shrugged. They were all familiar with the story, but Duang wasn’t in the right headspace that night to make up something new. “Our story begins in a far away time…” In the dark of night, a boy was looking for something to drink. He had wandered for many days in the winding forests, carefully picking out the woodland mushrooms and running away from all sorts of spirits and ghosts. The boy had almost given up when the most beautiful creek appeared in front of him. Overjoyed, he ran headfirst into the stream, tripped, and fell headfirst into the water. Lang chuckled When he opened his eyes, a sea of darkness was all around him. He could hear nothing, except for a deep, booming voice. “My my, who do we have here?” The boy quickly shot up, holding up his fists. “I’m not afraid of you!” he cried. “Aren’t you a feisty one!”There was a pause.“Say, if it were up to me, you could even be quite useful around here. And, you know, everything here is up to me.” The boy didn’t know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut. Before long, the soft whistle of a flute broke the stifling silence. “Oh, this is simply delightful! You could be my delivery boy!” Before the boy could even think of a reply, he felt a great gust around him. Suddenly, he was pushed up—no, down!—by the wind. He knew that he was falling, and he saw the world opening back up to him again, lit by the bright moon. Seconds away from slamming into a roof, he felt the air gathering below him, and slowly drifted to the ground. The house in front of him was very small, and he could hear snores coming from inside. The boy moved to open the door, but his hand passed straight through! Stumbling again, he tripped into the house. Inside was an old man, eyes more creases than pupil, sleeping on a pile of hay. The boy, rubbing his eyes, saw embers coming out of the man’s nose with each snore! Stepping closer to the man, the boy felt the flame: it was ice-cold. Just as he started to feel the fire, the old man started coughing profusely, and more embers started fuming from his nose. Only a few seconds had passed before a great orb of flame had passed out of the old man, who was now completely limp and still. As if on instinct, the boy swooped his hands in to catch the orb. Juggling it between his hands, he felt the air tightening around him, and before he could even cry out, he was whisked back up into the air. Duang yawned. “You mixed it up,” said Yon, catching the yawn. “The old man was in the one where the boy was trying to escape.” “Huh?” blinked Duang. “Oh, my bad.” “I wonder how old the boy is now.” Yon paused. “But I guess He’s not really one to keep track of birthdays.” Another rain-soaked silence. “I feel bad for the boy, no one should be in charge of every dead person.” “And all because he didn’t watch his step,” sighed Lang. Banks of the Krong River, 2650 BCE A spell of scorching weather had plagued the Malom family throughout the week. While their parents and older siblings were praying to patches of millet, children were dunking their faces into the river and running back home. Inside sat their mene and neme, the oldest—and prickliest—Maloms, who had moved nothing but their bamboo fans for two days on end. “C’mon nemene!” shouted one of the children, hair soaked with water and mud. “Moving around cools you off!” “Ah yes,” said mene, waving her fan faster, “I can feel the wind delivering my sack of bones already.” Neme said nothing. It was hard to tell when she was sleeping and when she was awake. Undeterred, the child sat down in front of mene, eyes glistening. “Please tell me a story! Please!” Like moths to a light, the other children heard the word ‘story’ and gathered around in a flash. “Fine,” snapped mene, “if it means keeping my mind off this blasted heat for a few minutes.” “We start in the ocean, a place much colder than here...” In the depths of the East Sea, there sat the gods. They were many in number, and their domains were plentiful. Among the gods was a fight as old as time, and the battlefield stretched as far as the eye could see. One day, a god was kidnapped, killed, and butchered into thousands of tiny pieces. Each part of him floated up to the sea’s surface and became the ocean’s many islands. “What was he responsible for?” asked a girl, unfazed. “How should I know,” mene spat, “he’s dead!” Oh, how the other gods cried when he died! They wailed and screamed, tore and ripped. Their grief was so loud, so terrible, that the ocean itself was moved by their sadness. So moved, in fact, that a giant wave rose up from the ocean floor… Meanwhile, people were going about their day on the coast next to the East Sea. They lived and fished happily, living in tiny huts on the water that were held up by little wooden stilts. When one of them finally lifted their eyes to see the giant wave, it was already too late. One moment there was a village, and after that, there was nothing. Days after the great wave had washed the villages away, the few that survived grew weary of the ocean. Fearing another wave, they worked together to build great walls all across the coast, from the edge of the sea to the inland rivers. But it wasn’t easy, and it certainly didn’t come quick. It took 100 years, and aheroto complete the wall. Hearing this, all the children leaned in closer, eyes wide. Many monsters lurked in the waters where the walls were to be built, and there were also great beasts that hoarded stones that were needed for the walls. Not only did these monsters hate humans for building the walls, they also loved eating the workers. The bravest woman of the coast, Tuata, saw her people being eaten and was very angry. So, she picked up her spear, and went all the way to the roaring rapids, where the monster Komul was known to haunt the banks. Planting her spear on the ground, she called out Komul’s name. Before long, there was a great rustling sound coming from the forest behind her. Turning around, Tuata first saw the flash of golden scales, then a giant patch of fur, and finally a pale hand. Slowly, Komul revealed itself in its entirety. It was a terrible sight: the body of a snake, the face of a monkey, and the arms of a human. Expecting Komul to roar, Tuata was taken aback as it began speaking. “Fool, who knows my name but not my strength. I have hunted in these grounds before the trees grew, before the water flowed, before the sun shone. Your morsels have delighted me, brought new tastes to my palate. I will not leave as long as the sea is unbridled.” Tuata stood firm, with her spear pointed forwards. “Your killings have gone on far too long, wicked beast! I have come to collect your debt of souls, which weighs heavy on your back like a mountain of death in the domain of your evil.” “Nonsense, we must all eat. You are naught but a bug to me, neither strong nor clever. My jaws will make quick work of you!” Leaping aside, Tuata stabbed Komul in the eye as it recoiled from its charge. Sparring down the river, the two fought fiercely for hours. Komul destroyed bridges and trees in its path, knocking Tuata into bark and water with its swift golden tail. When the moon came up after the seventh hour, Tuata and Komul were clashing on the ledges of a mountain. Both were near the brink of exhaustion, when Komul made a brash lunge to trap Tuata in its teeth. The warrior’s bones would have been crushed in seconds, but Tuata used all her strength to stab her spear into Komul’s tongue, which loosened its jaw. Writhing in pain, the beast fell off the mountain with Tuata in its mouth. Charging with her spear in front of her, Tuata impaled the beast and flew out of its tail, falling straight into the river below. Drifting in the river and asleep with exhaustion, Tuata heard a distant echo. “You have done a great deed,” whispered the echo. “The gods will be watching closely.” Tuata would go on to have many more battles, clearing the coast for the walls to be built as she gained the favour of the gods. After killing Komul, she never tired as long as she kept fighting, and she never slept either. In her determination, Tuata didn’t notice for years as her teeth started falling out and her joints began to weaken. When all vigour left her body, it had been 100 years, and the wall was complete.
Ayesha Erotica - Girl Next Door (slowed and reverbed)
Girl next door Meaning
The Girl Next Door - Trailer - YouTube
What does girl next door mean?
Saving Jane - Girl Next Door - Lyrics - YouTube
GIRL NEXT DOOR - shaggy it wasn't me - YouTube
The Girl Next Door 'Fuck her for me!' - YouTube
Girl Next Door
Elisha Cuthbert - The Girl Next Door Best Scene - YouTube
Horrible things that CPS workers had to deal with (r/AskReddit - Reddit Scary Stories) - Duration: 21:44. ReddiTV Horror Recommended for you I watch this scene whenever I am happy, glad, frustrated, it does not matter... I watch it all the time; it is just amazing to think of this girl and the imp... This is on of my favorite songs! Hope you like it! This is my first time putting song lyrics on youtube, so don't criticize please! lol My first amv, be nice. Includes clips from Ouran Host Club episodes 1-3 ^_^ The song is 'Girl Next Door' by Saving Jane. What does girl next door mean? A spoken definition of girl next door. Intro Sound: Typewriter - Tamskp Licensed under CC:BA 3.0 Outro Music: Groove Groove - Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) favorite movie ever!... Video shows what girl next door means. A regular, typical girl, as opposed to a superstar.. Girl next door Meaning. How to pronounce, definition audio dictionary. Great scene from The Girl Next Door. Donate to keep this channel rolling, anything helps, any donation will get a shoutout. (see links below👇) Paypal: [email protected] Venmo: @TikTok...