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A Tale of Terror by MsFicwriter
In the dim light of my bedroom, cast by a single candlestick that made shadows dance on the ceiling, I sought her smiling face. It anchored my life, and my world.
"Yes, dear?"
"May I ask you three questions before I go to sleep?"
"Of course." Rustle went her long nightdress; whoosh went the wind outside. There would be a storm tonight, and I didn't even need the omens of our priests to tell me! The Masked Ones would be meditating, ensuring our safety and peace.
Folding my hands on top of my white blanket, I took a deep breath and prepared to take a risk. Normally, I would ask Mother questions like, "Where does the rain come from?" and "How old will you be when I grow up?" Tonight, however, I had more serious matters on my mind. Who cared about rain and age when the three biggest questions in my five-year-old heart had not yet been answered? I almost whispered when I spoke to Mother:
"Who is our god? For some reason, you won't tell me about him. Please do!"
Mother closed her eyes and opened them again slowly. She seemed to be making some sort of decision, but what kind? Her voice was soft and low:
"Our god is the most powerful one in the world. We call him the Faceless, because he lacks a visage. You know what our priests have told you: Though he has no eyes, the Faceless sees. Though he has no ears, the Faceless hears. Though he has no lips, the Faceless speaks. We are all blessed because we live in his holy city, cleft into a mountainside upon the rim of his Maw."
"What's a maw?" I slapped my hands over mine. "Oh, no! That one didn't count!"
Mother chuckled softly. "I'll allow you one free question for tonight, since you're showing such an interest in sacred things. A maw is a mouth, a very large one, and the Maw of the Faceless is the vast crater in the middle of the place we call home. On the night of every full moon, the Masked Ones all gather together and pray. The Maw opens, and the Faceless speaks."
"What does he say?" I paused. "That's my second question."
"Only our priests know that, because they're the ones who can hear him. You may think you only hear the wind on the night of the full moon, but after the Masked Ones have finished praying, they focus their minds and listen. The words of the Faceless echo from his Maw. When dawn comes, our priests tell us what he said. They've never been wrong, and they never can be."
"Why not?"
Mother smiled, with candlelight reflected in her eyes. "Is that your third question, daughter mine? We both know you have too many!" We giggled, because this was true. I had a thousand more questions I wanted to ask:
Why aren't we allowed to go into the temple of our god until we're seven? Why don't we get to be chosen to be Masked until we're sixteen? I'm smart! I know I could learn everything they had to teach me before then. Also, why do the Masked Ones wear masks? I asked none of these questions, however. Why not? had stuck in my mind and my mouth for some reason, like a piece of food that had lodged itself between my teeth. I said, "Yes, that's it."
"Our priests can never be wrong, because the Faceless is never wrong."
Really? "I believe that, about our god, but we people make mistakes..."
Mother stood up, smoothing the part of the blanket which had been underneath her and tucking me into bed. "That's all for tonight. If you get scared during the storm, come see me. Yes?" Happily and thankfully, I nodded. "Your father would have been so proud of you, had he heard you tonight! You're a special child, a miracle, and I don't want you to forget it." She drew a warm hand across my cool forehead. "Good night, darling." Blowing out the candle, she turned to leave, and I realized I had one more question:
What happened to Father? You said he died, but how? Was he sick?
Agh! Those were three annoying and unanswered queries, and I pinched myself. I must try not to vex Mother, because her eyes--
Her eyes were so sad, and I didn't know why. What was the reason for that? The wind continued howling, and I heard the roar of thunder in the distance. Despite what Mother had promised me I could do, I pulled the white blanket up over my head and pretended I was dead. That way the storm couldn't hurt me, and neither could the mysteries buzzing in my mind like baby wasps...
In order to understand our god, you have to understand our temple first. It's called the Oegon, pronounced "EE-gon" or often "ER-gon," especially by the Masked Ones who live there. I've done some studying, and its name comes from two words meaning "eye" and "shape". When you finish walking down the stone entrance hallway and enter the Oegon itself, you'll see why.
When I first did, I could only gasp, because it was the most beautiful building I'd ever seen! Light poured through seven big windowpanes, one on each side of the Oegon except for one. The eighth side was reserved for its two doors, which were heavy and made almost all out of glass. The wood in these doors only served for strong frames, like the ones for pictures. Because my friends and I were still children, the Masked Ones told us that we could never slam these doors, even though the glass was said to be warded. "Be very careful, for the eyes of the Faceless are upon you."
The windows and doors were like eyes, and two of them were clouded over with strange etchings. When I stood in the middle of the Oegon with the other seven-year-olds in our city, I felt as if I were being watched from all sides. No matter where I looked, the sun streamed in, bathing me in its golden warmth. I felt safe and comfortable, even though the Masked Ones scared me a little. They were very still, standing like statues before us. I decided to hide behind the other children and peek out from behind them when our priests spoke. Were we all in trouble, or was this it?
"Good day, my children," said one of them, a tall man in a hooded robe. I could only see his mouth move because of his mask. No other parts of his face were visible, though the mask did have two tiny holes for his eyes and two even tinier holes for his nose. "I am Exarch of the Masked Ones. Sit." He gestured to the hard stone benches around us, which were cold to the touch. We obeyed, not even daring to whisper amongst ourselves because we were so in awe. Many of us were scared, and brought our thumbs toward our mouths involuntarily. However, seeing the Exarch again, we quickly dropped them to our sides. No shameful acts would we commit in this place!
"Do you know why you are here?" asked the Exarch, waiting for an answer.
One of my friends, a lively boy, raised his hand. "We're to be punished?"
I thought I heard the sound of soft laughter echoing throughout the Oegon.
"No," replied the Exarch, his lips forming a small smile. "None of you deserves punishment! It is time for you to learn about the Faceless and his ways, and that is why I've called you to the Oegon. For seven years, you were but babes, not truly understanding the difference between what is right, and what is wrong, in the eyes of our god. Now you've reached an age where you know these things, or are beginning to know them. Thus, you must be further taught." He turned to someone standing to his right. "High Priestess? Please fetch the scrolls for novices, and pass them out to these precious children."
A woman as graceful as a willow tree, and just as strong, bowed her head. She was also wearing a hood and a mask which covered everything but her mouth. Turning to leave, she soon returned with an armful of parchments.
"These are sacred scrolls," the Exarch announced, "protected by ritual so that they can never be torn or ripped to pieces. Open them now, and read aloud."
We did, and this is what was written in midnight-dark ink upon them:
All who follow me shall follow me alone.
All who follow me shall not claim statues bear my face, for I have none.
All who follow me shall treat one another as brothers and sisters in me.
All who follow me shall not steal from anyone, even those who lack belief.
All who follow me shall not murder anyone, even those who lack belief.
All who follow me shall remain true to their husband or wife.
All who follow me shall not lie in order to have anyone else condemned.
All who follow me shall seek my face, even though I am Faceless.
When we had finished reading, the Exarch asked us: "Do you understand?"
I raised my hand timidly: "Exarch? How do we do that last part?"
Again, that small smile. "By following his teachings, child: obeying every word spoken through his Maw, and through the mouths of his Masked Ones."
I see... "Is it true that you're the only ones who can hear him?"
"Yes." The Exarch's voice was firm and final. "That is why we are Masked, so that we can be blessed with the power to hear him. Ours is a life of sacrifice, because it is not easy to know our god so very closely. If you wish to do so, then come up to me, one by one, and the High Priestess will anoint your forehead with holy oil. Before you do this, however, state your intent."
"Hmm?" Another friend of mine spoke, who didn't know what that meant.
The High Priestess explained: "Tell the Faceless that you'll seek his face."
My friend nodded frantically, and she was the first to stand before the Exarch. "I'll seek your face!" she cried, her voice full of the joy that comes with understanding. The High Priestess traced a circle of oil upon my friend's seven-year-old forehead with her index finger, and gently filled it in.
"My turn!" yelled the boy who'd spoken before. He practically ran up to the Exarch, who held up his hand to warn him to walk more slowly. "I'll seek your face!" He squirmed under the High Priestess' touch, which was natural because he was always boisterous. The rest of us tried not to laugh.
One after another, we repeated these words and received our anointing.
Something troubled me, though: If the Faceless' name was true, then why did the Exarch keep looking us children directly in the eye when we said our vows? Even though the Exarch seemed to have none--only darkened slits in his mask--the look of his veiled visage was unsettling. That was why, when my turn came, I shut my eyes and let the Oegon's silent darkness enfold me.
"I'll seek your face." I kept my eyes closed as the High Priestess smeared oil with a musky scent upon my forehead. Only then did I open them. As I returned to my seat upon the stone bench, I felt eyes upon me, but not the windows of the Oegon, which were the eyes of the Faceless...
"THE FACELESS has fallen silent."
Mother clutched my hand hard enough that her fingernails dug into it. I was so startled that I didn't even scream or cry out, which was odd for me. Being eight years old, it was not yet considered shameful for me to make any sort of noise during services and solemn occasions at the Oegon. However, I didn't want to risk it, and so I pretended not to notice the ooze that was creeping onto the flesh of my palm. Instead, I looked up at Mother's face. Her eyes were riveted upon the Exarch of the Masked Ones, flanked by the other seven. She did not move, except for readjusting her grip on my hand so as not to hurt me. The rest of her body was as rigid as that of a dead one.
Despite the prohibition, at least for the adults, against causing any sort of a disturbance in the temple of the Faceless, I heard soft murmuring and people shifting uneasily in their places on the now-familiar stone benches. I was eight at this point, and these seats had ceased to be uncomfortable. In fact, at times I believed their unyielding surfaces to have molded themselves to my contours after the course of one year. I and the other children of our city, my friends included, had certainly spent a lot of mornings in the Oegon. At sixteen, I would finally attend worship services with the adults in the evening, and if--hope against hope!--I were chosen to be Masked, I would attend the midnight services, which lasted until dawn. Please, let me be worthy!
With a jolt, I suddenly realized the importance of what the Exarch had said. Even he, who not only wore a mask but was the highest of the Masked Ones, was no longer worthy to seek the Faceless! Our god had stopped speaking. Only he knew what sort of vile transgressions we had committed in order for him to punish us this way. How were we ever to hear from him again?
The Exarch answered the hidden question in my mind: "We are weak. We are all but mortals, and we have become complacent in our souls." What did this mean? I was trying to learn all I could through our city's wise schoolmaster, but he'd never mentioned that particular word before. "We have taken the Faceless and his words for granted, his revelations. Our lives depend upon him, and yet we consider him beneath our notice, like the air or the trees. Is this acceptable?" Silence. "Is this how we seek his face? If so, we'll reap what we have sown, for he speaks to us no more."
Stark terror cast a pallor upon the faces of all those assembled in the Oegon. If this was true, then how were we to live? Who would save us from the Fate Without a Name, which would condemn our souls to eternal torment after we died? Following the Faceless was the center of our lives, and without it our sacred city would never have been built. Were we to live in vain now?
"Our grandfathers and our great-grandfathers were cast out, exiled into the mountains when the valley folk would hear no one mention the Faceless. They founded this city upon the rim of his Maw for a reason. Now you dare disgrace them, and our god himself? All of us have failed and fallen short, but at least we Masked Ones have spent day and night listening for his voice! We must make ourselves pure and righteous once more, never tiring in our desire to do his will. As of tonight, no one will be allowed outside after dark except for those who are Masked. Nights are to be spent in prayer, not idle pleasures."
The red sun was sinking low, bathing the Oegon in fire. Soon it disappeared behind the Maw of the Faceless, yawning cold and dark. The dawn would come again, but what did that matter if he was no longer communing or communicating with us? We were so terrified that none of us dared raise an objection to the curfew. Spending evenings indoors in order to devote ourselves to our faith was a small price to pay in order to hear the Faceless once more. If we did not, who knew what kind of punishment we'd bear?
"Go now. The sun has set, and may you worship as you ought. Y'lakh."
This ancient word, a formal term for "farewell," was only used by the Masked Ones. Technically, they were the sole people who were supposed to know what it meant, but they found it useful when they needed a stronger word to bless those who were leaving the Oegon. In fact, after our daily children's services, they always said Y'lakh, and that was how we learned its meaning. We responded in kind, "EE-lakh," with a guttural hhh sound at the end. It was spelled with the K so we'd know to pronounce the H instead of saying "la" at the end. How do I know this? Research, and a few conversations with our schoolmaster after the day's lessons were over!
When we arrived home, Mother did something strange. In the twilight that still illuminated our stone cottage, she lit a tall white candle, placed it in a wooden candlestick, and laid it on the kitchen table. "Come," she said, her voice full of that faintly-echoing melancholy that sent shivers down my spine. "It's time I told you." She took my hands in hers, and I stared at the candle uneasily.
In the silence of our kitchen and dining area, I could barely breathe. "What is it, Mother?" I finally managed to whisper, continuing to let her hold my hands.
"This is not the first time that the Faceless has ceased speaking to us."
I couldn't believe it! "When was it? Do you know?" The flame illuminating the room rose and flickered, as if it were as frightened as Mother seemed to be.
"Eight years ago." She trailed off. "I'm starting to doubt that this particular occasion I'm remembering was the first time, but it was truly the beginning of the end for me." With a quivering sigh that she let out slowly, Mother said, "Only you saved me from joining your father after..."
"After what?" My stomach felt hard and twisted, like a rope tied in knots.
"Eight years ago, very near the time you were born, the Exarch made the same announcement that he made tonight. He and his Masked Ones could no longer hear the Faceless, because our god had closed his mouth! None of us in our fair city knew why, but the Exarch warned us that we had indeed transgressed and forgotten the one we worshiped. He said we should pray."
"Like tonight," I said slowly, "but what did he mean when he said to pray as we ought? Is there a particular way to commune with the Faceless at a time like this, or did he simply say that praying is what we ought to do?"
Mother did not answer, and her silence was as chilling as the draft that seeped in through our cottage's stone walls. "That admonition was only the key that unlocked the door of our nightmares. Prayer and nighttime curfews were things to which we gladly consented, but soon the Exarch held another evening service in which he called for...offerings of highest faith." A pause. "You know that we give eight percent of what we earn through honest labor to the Masked Ones, and the Oegon--the temple of the Faceless." I nodded. "You also know that we are called to serve in whatever capacity we can when the Masked Ones receive such revelations. I myself read the sacred scrolls that are only given to those who reach sixteen, to check for errors."
I nodded. "I've never heard of offerings of highest faith, however."
"And well you haven't! Your father volunteered, along with seven others, to cast himself into the Maw of the Faceless willingly, on the night of the full moon, so that our god might speak again." I was so scared that even though I knew full well how to use the privy, I felt something dribble between my legs. "That was not the worst part, however. These seven souls who so bravely gave their lives so the rest of us might live were heroes, and even then..."
"Something else was wrong, wasn't it?" I could barely hear my own rasping.
"Yes." After a moment, Mother continued: "Your father, though he sacrificed body and soul for us and this sacrosanct city, did not die as a paragon of faith in the eyes of the Masked Ones. He perished as a heretic, because he claimed to hear the Faceless." Another pause. "I believed him."
"You did?!" I was so loud that I startled myself and jumped. "Why?"
"I knew what your father said was true, even though the Exarch, the Masked Ones, and our friends and neighbors denied it. Daughter, I weep for you! You are the only living child of a man deemed a blasphemer and a woman who held fast to what he said, although quietly! The only way that the Exarch allowed your father to redeem himself before the Faceless was if he offered to cast himself into the Maw first..." Sobs crept out from between Mother's wet, trembling lips. "He did, and the Virtuous Seven followed. I have no doubt your father is in the arms of our god, as are they. However--" She sat up very straight, and looked straight at me. "Promise me something."
"Anything!" After her unveiling of the dark secret that had haunted her for eight years, even before my birth, how could I deny her this one comfort?
"I want you to promise me this: that you will never ask, as long as you live, what it was your father said that caused him to be branded a heretic."
I was so curious about this that I thought my very skin would burst, and my body die, if I did not learn the answer to this question. However, I steadied my breath and my voice. "I promise, Mother. I will never inquire about it."
Rising up from the table, Mother darted around it and gave me such an embrace that I thought I was being crushed! "Good. I love you. Be safe."
All I could think was, O Faceless! What heresy could be so horrible as to torment Mother so? Will the Masked Ones call for what they did before?!
It wasn't long before my worst fears, and Mother's, came true. As she had suspected, the nighttime curfew was only the first new commandment in a long list of "shalls" and "shall nots". I couldn't remember them all, being eight, but those that I did remember confused and frightened me. It wasn't just the tone in which they were written; there was something intangible yet insidious in the rules themselves. I had to ask Mother about quite a few of them, such as these:
32. You shall not read anything save your assigned sacred scrolls.
33. You shall dress in white at all times, whether morn or evening.
34. You shall conduct your business and yourselves in all possible silence.
35. You shall keep your countenance reverent and somber.
36. You shall keep your mind on sacred things.
37. You shall pray unceasingly.
38. You shall not profane yourselves in carnal indulgences.
39. You shall not listen to any sort of music.
40. Offerings of highest faith are to be holy, or made holy.
I didn't know what a "countenance" or "carnal indulgences" were, and also couldn't fathom why we weren't to read anything except sacred scrolls or listen to music. It was one of the greatest delights of my life, especially Mother's singing. Why the emphasis on silence? Mother said it was because since the Faceless was not speaking to us, we should be ever-alert for the sound of his returning voice. I nodded, but then thought for a moment.
"Wait: if the Masked Ones are the only people who can hear him, then why have they told the rest of us that we can't enjoy music?" Mother stood tense and silent, and then gave me a hug for a reason I couldn't explain. Was she as afraid of these new rules as I was? Something told me so, but why? What made them so frightening? None of them scared me as much as the fortieth one, however: "What does it mean to be holy, or to be 'made holy', if you're going to be an 'offering of highest faith' like Father?"
"Shhhhh. Hush, child. Please don't speak of him, or of that. The process is painful, and some do not live through it!" I shuddered. "What you need to know is that I would give my own life for you, and that these new commandments are for our own good. If we follow them, then our lives will be better. Perhaps, in time, the Faceless will see that we've made ourselves fully worthy and blameless. For now, however, we must work very hard to do so."
Even though I nodded meekly, I still didn't understand. What did all of these recent rules have to do with seeking the face of the Faceless? Once upon a time, not so very long ago at all, there were only eight laws that he would have us follow, eight utterances from his bottomless Maw. If he had fallen silent, as the Masked Ones said, then the rest of these sixty-four precepts had come from somewhere else, or someone else. Humbly, I asked:
"Mother? If the Masked Ones are the people who have truly written all of these new commandments, then why won't they tell us why they did that?"
She closed her eyes and opened them again, like she had on one stormy night three years ago, when I had first asked about the Faceless. "They have not told you children why," she said slowly when she regained her voice, "because they believe you are too young and simple to understand. The Faceless may be silent, but that's all the more reason why we must trust the words that emerge from the mouths of his priests. The Masked Ones said that since we had become impure and complacent, since we had taken the Faceless for granted, then we had to purify ourselves through austerity. We must follow these new commandments to prove that we're ready to hear his voice again." She knelt down before me. "Promise me that you will, yes?"
I smiled impishly. "I won't promise anything unless I get two more questions."
Why was there a tear forming in the corner of Mother's eye? "Ask them."
"What's a 'countenance'?"
Mother returned my grin. "That's the look on your face. Keep it serious."
"I see. What about 'carnal indulgences'?"
She pondered this question, then leaned forward and whispered in my ear. I flushed hot, and then started giggling all of a sudden. Slapping my hand over my mouth, I couldn't keep the laughter from bubbling out of me, and neither could Mother! It was a good thing we weren't in the Oegon, or we would have been severely punished by the Exarch and High Priestess. Once all of our merriment had poured out of us like rain, we wiped our eyes and went to bed.
Oddly enough, that was when the rains began. The skies above our city clouded over to an ominous degree, slate-gray instead of softly glowing blue. The never-ending storms made showers cascade endlessly into the Maw...
REJOICE! :emodanc:
In order to keep from being driven mad by the incessant rain, one week later the Masked Ones called us to a special evening service at the Oegon. "Not only has our god abandoned us," the Exarch said, "but our once-holy city has been cursed. If offerings of highest faith are not given to him, then we shall literally drown in our own iniquity!" I shuddered, because Father had willingly volunteered to be one of these offerings. He had thrown himself into the Maw of the Faceless in order to save us, and now we needed saving again. Who would be brave enough to do this, or wise enough? Eight years was an eternity to a child like me, but to grown-ups it was not so long ago. Would everyone remember the greater good, or would they only remember their own fear at what had happened? True, eight people had become one with the Faceless, leaving the rest of us behind. However, it was for a good reason--wasn't it?
"Who is worthy? Who is virtuous, and will volunteer as one of eight who shall open the Maw of the Faceless again? If you will, come unto me..." The Exarch began to count, and when he reached the number seven, I rose up from my seat on one of the stone benches and ran forward. Mother gasped, crying out, but I wouldn't let her dissuade me. Our city was condemned, not just abandoned by the Faceless. It needed people to redeem it, and I was going to be one of them! The Exarch put his hands on his hips. I knew he was glaring at me even though I couldn't see his face:
"You? A blasphemer's daughter? How dare you offer yourself, foolish child!"
Even though I was terrified to speak to him, I cleared my throat. "Our fortieth commandment states that offerings of highest faith are to be holy, or made holy. Exarch, cannot I be made holy, and help to save our city from this curse of storms? Ever since the Faceless stopped talking to us, I can't eat! I can't sleep! I don't really want to do these things anymore, and look how thin I've gotten..." I knelt down before him. "Give me a chance to redeem us all. I know I'm only one of eight, but can't I be that one?" I shut my eyes, because the sight of the Exarch's white mask made my stomach turn.
After a pause that lasted a thousand years, he spoke again: "Your faith is great, young one, and for this reason I hereby select you. High Priestess? The others need no preparation save a single night's continuous prayer here in the Oegon, but this child should be taken to the U'um--the Mind of the Faceless. She must understand everything, and what her self-sacrifice truly means." He turned to the rest of us. "You may leave, and meditate upon the Eight. They are prepared to give themselves to the Faceless for the sake of all, so pray and ponder their significance. I release you. Y'lakh." The Exarch folded his hands in front of him and bowed. Mother ran to the High Priestess:
"Please! Return my child to me. I never saw my husband again after he--"
"She volunteered," the High Priestess replied, "and I cannot deny her this. All she desires is an opportunity to save our city, and what more can you ask of so selfless a daughter? I assure you she will be safe within the U'um."
"And afterward?"
Someone else tugged on Mother's arm. I felt tears dripping down my cheeks as a middle-aged woman forced her to leave. It had not been one of the Masked Ones, but one of our nearest neighbors. How could she be so cruel?
"Come." The High Priestess took me further into the Oegon as the crowd departed. We stepped onto a crude stone platform of some sort. "This is a lift," she explained, "which will carry us toward the highest point of our temple, known as the Faceless' Mind." I was immediately curious as to how the lift worked, because I couldn't see any sort of lever or control on it. "Hold my hand tightly," said my masked companion, and I obeyed. "Uuuuuu-um..." I shrieked, startled, as the platform began to rise. I shut my eyes again and clung to the High Priestess' waist as it continued upward through utter darkness. When it finally stopped, it exited into a tiny octagonal room with eight tall windows. "Welcome," the High Priestess said. "Please sit down."
The U'um contained four benches, covered in amber velvet, around a flowing fountain. Eight amber candles glowed in each of the windows. I felt safe and at peace here, despite my tightly-clenched stomach. "Why do I need to be prepared?" I asked. "What do I need to do to be made holy?"
"First," said the High Priestess, "I would like you to make a choice. Thus far, you have only seen me and the other Masked Ones with covered faces. This is for a reason--at least in my case." She sighed, and her lips relaxed. "In order to begin to understand the real reason why the Faceless has ceased communing with us, and why these storms lash our city without relief, you must understand what I truly am. Are you willing to do so?" I agreed quickly.
"Please place your hands upon my mask." Trembling, I did so. "Can you see the tiny holes for my nostrils?" I nodded, and thunder crashed overhead. "Feel them." I did, and her warm breath tickled my fingertips. "Good. Now, gently feel the holes for my eyes." I brought my hands upward toward them and was shocked: they were painted on, and weren't actual holes at all..."I knew you'd be surprised," the High Priestess said gently. "Now: in order to begin to acquire the holiness to make you One of Eight--take off my mask."
Biting my lower lip, I did so, and then screamed and screamed into the night.
The High Priestess had no eyes. Neither did she possess a nose--only a forehead, cheekbones, and a mouth. She had no face. She was faceless. When I had finally stopped shrieking, she drew me into her arms and held me. "I have sacrificed the visage you though you'd see," the High Priestess explained, "in order to gain a sense of hearing blessed by the Faceless. All of us Masked Ones have done this, including the Exarch, but his ears have long since ceased to hear." She wiped my tears away with her thumb gently.
All I could blubber through my sobs was, "Why? What does he want?"
"The Faceless wants our fellowship," said she, "but the Exarch wants power..."
Another bolt of lightning split the air, and I buried my head in the High Priestess' shoulder. She gave me one more long hug, just as Mother would have done if she were here right now. "Our Exarch was once one of eight, a humble Masked One like myself. He went about his duties to this city with compassion and true loving-kindness toward others, being one of the faces of the Faceless. Yet, around the time a new Exarch was to be selected, something changed in him."
I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess: he wanted to be chosen, and turned cruel!"
With her mask mercifully back in place, the High Priestess nodded. "Yes, and it was far worse than that. He claimed to be the only one, even out of all of us Masked Ones, to be able to truly hear the Faceless. Therefore, he ought to be ordained as Exarch, and was. The most terrible thing about this, however, was the method he used to prove his worth. He--he made it rain for months on end, and claimed the Faceless had abandoned and cursed us! At the time, however, I sincerely believed that our god had forsaken this city. I didn't even suspect the Exarch's cunning, or his power. All of our prayers were utterly useless, because the Faceless did not speak to us--or so we thought."
Holding up my hand, I said, "Wait! What about the Virtuous Eight? Why did the Exarch call for offerings of highest faith, if he himself is the one who can start and stop the rain? Is he simply throwing us into the Maw for nothing?"
A chilling smile spread across the High Priestess' lips. "Not for nothing, child. You cannot have known this, but all of the others who stepped forward besides you are those who feel most guilty about grumbling against the Exarch and his rule. The thirty-two extra commandments are his and his alone: he wrote them without the aid of the Faceless' revelations! These rules, the Exarch says, are meant to bring us closer to our god, but they separate us from him further. No one knows this, save me, because I--" She stopped abruptly. "Will you believe me if I tell you I can hear him?"
"Of course! You're a Masked One, aren't you? You're supposed to do that..."
"No. I mean actually hear him."There was a three-second pause between these last two words. "My seven fellows believe that I am mad."
The rain poured down in sheets. "Is that why you can't do anything against the Exarch?" The High Priestess nodded. "Does he want to hurt you?" She nodded again. "Why would he trust you with me, then, if he's so evil?"
She leaned and whispered into my ear: "He wished for me to Mask you."
"You mean for me to lose my face?!" My cry echoed through the U'um.
"Yes. That is how you were to be made holy enough to cast yourself into the Maw, but I'm not going to do it. Instead, I'm going to tell you the final secret of the Exarch's reign of terror. This call for offerings of highest faith is not the first one, as you know. It's not even the second one, or third. Our current Exarch was ordained when he was twenty-four years old, and now he's eighty-eight. That means that this is the eighth cycle of slaughter."
I blinked. I couldn't believe what I was hearing! What had happened to the comfort of our faith, the warmth and safety of the Oegon, and the peace I'd always felt at services? Were they all lies? Apparently so, but why? Why had the Exarch chosen to send sixty-four brave souls to meet our deity, who had possibly never spoken with the highest of the Masked Ones at all?
"Every eight years, the storms come. Every eight years, our city seethes, and there are murmurs of unrest. Every eight years, certain people wish to see our Exarch cast down, and these are always the ones who volunteer. Fear is one of the most powerful forces in this world, child, and guilt is its silent partner. Redemption is a desire that lies in all our hearts, for all of the things we've done wrong. However, that doesn't mean we deserve the Maw or its aim!"
"What is its aim?" I'd wet myself a little, though I was fully privy-trained.
"Death." The High Priestess' voice was soft yet adamant.
I let all of this sink in, and my sense of dread grew by the second. "High Priestess, isn't there anything we can do? I mean, the Exarch is about to send eight more people straight into the Maw of the Faceless, and if everything you say is true, then they're going to dive in willingly!" That brought an urgent question to my mind: "Why have you chosen to help me, and tell me all this? Why not tell the other seven people who volunteered tonight, too?" A tree branch suddenly scraped against one of the windows, clawing it like a gnarled arm. "Won't they believe you?"
"They might, but it's far more likely that they won't. Also, the more people who know this secret, the more dangerous our situation will become. I've chosen to tell you because you have your whole life ahead of you, untainted by rumors of me losing my mind soon after the Exarch was ordained. I swear to you upon my very life that I can hear the Faceless speak, even now when my superior says he has fallen silent! Would you like me to prove it?"
The eight amber candles in the towering windows of the U'um flickered uneasily, as if they were in immediate danger of being extinguished. "How can you? What has he told you lately, besides about these storms and their cure?"
"The Faceless revealed the heresy that condemned your father to the Maw."
I gripped her aged hands so hard she flinched and stepped back. "Tell me!"
She took a deep breath. "No one except the Exarch would tell anyone what it was, and yet he insisted that your father throw himself into our deity's mouth first without anyone else knowing why. For years his death haunted me, until I was lying in bed one night and I could hear the Faceless' voice clearly. All he said, in the ancient tongue of our eldest ancestors, was roughly translated as: 'The blasphemer says I speak to every human heart, and he is right.' I was horrified, because if even the Faceless believed your father's words, then there was no need for us. Think of it! If our god does speak to everyone, then we Masked Ones are irrelevant. I had to guard this revelation with my whole heart, lest the Exarch find out and slay me for revealing it!"
"Or, could it be that you were just too proud to say so? Could it be that you didn't want to be ir-rel-e-vant, so you kept my father's secret to yourself?"
The High Priestess bowed her head. "I believe it's a bit of both, and that's what keeps me up nights when the other seven Masked Ones are asleep. I have been complacent ever since your father died, for eight years, and now it's time to stop. It's time to defeat the Exarch, and put an end to his reign over our city! He has exalted himself, and so now he must be cast down!"
"One more thing: What's 'complacent'? Mother can't explain that very well."
The High Priestess gave me a long look with her eyeless, noseless, faceless face. I could tell that she was coming to the same kind of decision that Mother herself had, right before she told me about Father. "It means you sit back and pretend everything's fine when you know it isn't. It means that in the midst of great evil happening all around you, you shut your eyes and pretend it isn't there. Above all, in my own situation, it means that I've sat on my hands and kept my own mouth closed while fifty-six people hurled themselves to their deaths in the Maw of the Faceless! I could have cried out for justice, but fear and complacency held me back. No more. It's time."
"How are we going to do it?" I asked.
"The Exarch has called upon the machinations of a series of spells that existed long before this city did. Our grandfathers eight generations ago practiced them, before they came to know the Faceless and his omnipotence. We believe that, nevertheless, these spells are imbued with our deity's power. The chief of all the Masked Ones is misusing them. He calls for rain, and yet he does not make it stop because he wants to see us cower in submission! He used one incantation in particular to make himself as magnificent as he is."
"What is it?" I asked meekly.
"It's a spell that exalts its caster above not only the natural world, but above the souls of ordinary men. It is forbidden except in the direst cases, yet the Exarch used it anyway. Thus, he not only gained the power to make it rain. He inspires terror and awe in anyone who comes near him, and to such a degree that they literally lose their minds for as long as he wants them to. Perhaps that is why no one dares murmur against him save every eight years, because that's when the great ritual wears off and he has to cast it again..."
Something odd occurs to me: "Why are we obsessed with the number eight?"
"Eight sides in the Oegon, Eyes of the Faceless, and windows here. Eight years to this cycle of death, and eight people perish each time. Why eight?"
A brief pause. "Turn the number on its side, and you'll understand why."
I didn't understand, but I was far more curious about this spell: "What is it?"
"If I tell you, the Exarch will know that a usurper is trying to take his place. Therefore, I will not, but I shall tell you this: there's a reverse incantation, which I have prayed to learn for decades now. It is almost the exact same as the spell itself, except it's said backwards with a few crucial lines added. Someone must be alive to cast it, and if tomorrow's Opening of the Maw goes as planned, I may not be. That means that you..." Thunder rumbled again.
Eight turned on its side? ∞
You are a clever one.
"No! I can't do this. I won't! Just let me jump in the Maw, and--"
"I know you're scared, but I need your help to save us all. If the Exarch isn't vanquished once and for all through this reverse incantation, he'll continue to cling to power long after this. Who knows? He may even learn the secret of immortality, to which even I am not privy! Come to my aid, child, and listen."
Despite sobbing anew, I did, and the High Priestess taught me the words that would save us all. The rain would cease, and so would the Exarch's power...
The next evening, it was time for the Opening of the Maw, the dread and deadly service upon the rim of the Faceless' Mouth. It was pouring harder than ever, and yet everyone in the city braved the drenching torrents. I knew that we were all hoping and praying for the storms to stop, but I and the High Priestess knew something else: mere prayer would not be enough this time. Even though I was but a little child, I had been given the key to unlock the doorway of the Exarch's evil mind. I listened to his words with trepidation:
"My good people in this fair city! It is time for this curse to end. Let our homes be flooded no more, and our crops no more be submerged so they cannot grow. Let the Faceless speak again, and let his pronouncements echo forth from the Maw! In order for that to happen, however, the Virtuous Eight, made holy by the sacred rite of Masking, must present themselves to him." I was wearing a small mask, along with the other seven volunteers, who wore larger ones. According to the High Priestess, this had melted our faces in the course of twenty-four hours, but she had given me a false mask instead.
"Blasphemer's daughter?" the Exarch asked me. "Recite your final prayer to our silent god. Then unmask yourself, and enter the Faceless' Maw!"
I took a deep breath, raised my arms to the sky as the High Priestess had directed me, and shrieked with all my might above the roaring thunder:
"Ch'ya to govruyu i'a, s'ela ve'ya byeslitsi'i! Nichiu v'v'vlast!"
Before the Exarch could react, his feet seemed rooted to the ground, and his body became as stiff as a board. He began to shriek himself, because when I opened my eyes again, I saw his mask had fallen off. He'd kept his face! Against all the precepts of our faith, and against the sacrifice that the High Priestess herself had made, the Exarch had worn a false mask all these years! Now, however, it was literally liquefying. As the storm continued, his body dissolved, blood and bone running together in a viscous fluid. It was all I could do to kneel on the rim of the Maw and vomit into it while she held me fast to keep me from falling in. When all was said and done, all that was left of the Exarch that had held us in bondage for decades was his stained white tunic.
When even this had tumbled into the Maw, the heavy rain ceased at last.
The other seven volunteers who had agreed to become part of the Virtuous Eight, oddly enough, had worn the masks the Exarch had given them. They were also false! Nevertheless, they knelt before me: "Teach us, child..."
The first thing I taught them to do was to throw their masks into the abyss.
I've been one of the visages of the Faceless for more than a half-century. I was never Masked; rather, I was anointed as a healer and prime warden against any wicked spellcraft that anyone might attempt. The High Priestess taught me everything she knew, and Father's "blasphemy" became one of the new tenets we followed as we sought our deity's face. Mother wept for joy when she realized what I'd done on that fateful night when I was eight, and passed away soon afterward. The grief she'd felt at Father's death had eaten her alive, but peace came to her heart before her eyes closed for the final time. Several of my friends became fellow priests, who helped me visit the bedsides of the sick and the dying. Far from being irrelevant, as the years passed we became more needed. The Faceless may speak to every human heart, but it takes our human souls and bodies to tend to one another...
I'm lying in the U'um now, tracing the number eight in the air with my bony finger. I am eighty-eight years old myself, and still cannot fathom what the High Priestess meant by telling me to do this "so I'd understand". All I'm doing is forming a symbol that keeps circling around, forever and ever, in a continuous and endless loop. It brings something to mind, and...ah...
The Faceless is calling me. I shall hear his loving voice, throughout infinity.
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The Robert A. Day 4 + 1 BA/MBA Program
Admission and Scholarships
How to Apply | Scholarships and Loans | Transfer Students
Transfer Students
It is possible for students transferring to CMC by the junior year to complete the Day 4 + 1 BA/MBA Program. Careful planning is required to ensure that the maximum number of units can be transferred, and requirements for transferring units are available through the Admissions Office.
Transfer students interested in the Day 4 + 1 Program should contact the program office as soon as possible to make certain that they can meet the MBA program prerequisites as well as the CMC graduation requirements within the prescribed time.
All students applying to the program are advised to complete the GMAT by the end of Winter break of the junior year.
For more information, contact:
The Robert A. Day 4 + 1 BA/MBA Program
Bauer Center 325
Claremont McKenna College
500 E. Ninth Street
Claremont, CA 91711
Phone: 909-607-6796
Email: firstname.lastname@example.com

subset: commoncrawl


text:
8 Apps Designed Specifically for Modern Douchebags
Most of what we know about ancient cultures is based on their technology. We know what they ate based on the grains that are mashed into their stoneware and what they did for fun based on the absence of video games in their little mud huts. Similarly, we can tell a great deal about modern douchebags by the apps that they're apparently spending money on. These are apps that could only be used by a very specific type of person. If you're a regular person, your regular-person shield (otherwise known as common human decency) will repel you from apps like ...
#8. Superstud Blackbook: The How-To Guide to Being a Douche
In the past, aspiring jerks had to seek out other jerks to teach them all the ins and outs of what it takes to become a crusty-haired blip on the world's douchebag radar. But those days are gone, thanks to the Superstud Blackbook.
Via Gizmolord.com
Nothing lubricates the ladies like film clips and coffee.
The Superstud Blackbook is basically the Encyclopedia Britannica for douchebags. Are you in a strange city and curious about where ladies with low standards like to get drunk and make bad decisions? The Superstud Blackbook can tell you. You need to purchase bribery material like flowers or jewelry? The Superstud Blackbook will provide a complete list of stores.
Via Gizmolord.com
"Single" is actually the only option.
Oh, and did we mention that it also provides sleazeballs on the prowl with a list of "ice-breakers"? Easily the douchiest aspect of this app, the Situation of this Shore, if you will, the ice-breakers cover things to say to make a good first impression on the innocent victim of your choosing. Unsurprisingly, "Hey baby, check out this Superstud Blackbook app" is not one of them.
Via Gizmolord.com
But "WOW (SIGH!)" is.
#7. The Passion App
Every guy is looking for a little feedback on how he's doing in the sack. So what do you do? Read a few books? Ask your almost certainly deprived lovers for advice on how best to please them? No. Don't be stupid. You're not made of study time.
Via Chrisalvares.com
"Tap anywhere to start." We'll let you make the joke on this one.
See, sex can be a mixed bag for the modern douchebag. On the one hand, it's sick to brag to your buddies about how you totally had it, but on the other, having it requires you to pay attention to someone else for five minutes, which can be a real snooze. How can a pathological narcissist remain self-obsessed while having sex with another human being? Naturally, there's an app for that ...
Via Chrisalvares.com
"Start measuring" and "Instructions." OK, so that's two free ones on us.
No, what you do is strap a smartphone to your arm and turn banging into a video game instead. The Passion app, designed by Chris Alvares and Satan, is available from iTunes (finally!). The app uses all the traditional smartphone bells and whistles such as the accelerometer, microphone and dickish sense of superiority to numerically quantify just how very sweetly you bone. It does so by factoring in the duration, orgasm and activity during sex, eventually assigning the user a score of 0 to 10. Users can then upload the sex scores to a leaderboard and compare it to other sex machines the world over. Because why shouldn't you be able to do that?
Via Chrisalvares.com
Yeah, 2.3 is actually the highest score anyone who uses this app has ever managed.
#6. Recognizr
While it's often said that women love jerks, that doesn't mean every woman knows she loves jerks. Before that can happen, the right jerk has to find her. A new smartphone app called Recognizr makes this terrifyingly easy to do.
Recognizr uses a photo of whatever man or woman you'd like to stalk the daylights out of to locate all of their social networking accounts. Twitter, Facebook, Flickr ... maybe even Friendster. (But probably not.)
Via Techpp.com
"Don't worry, Minna, the picture is for a school project. What's that? How do I know your name?"
The facial recognition software creates a 3-D model of the face in the photo and sends it across their server (which you might be surprised to know is currently on parole for sexual assault charges) to be matched up with the identity in the database. A cloud server does the facial recognition and then sends back the name and access to the social networks.
If that sounds complicated, just know this ... anyone with a camera phone can now take your picture and use it to find all the information the guy from Something About Mary needed phone taps for.
This is the creepiest thing in the world.
It's not all gloom and doom for your hopes of not having your privacy invaded by creepy a-holes, though. See, the only way Recognizr will work is if the person being photographed actually has a Recognizr account. So, you know, maybe don't get one.
#5. Creepy
Aptly named Creepy, this monumentally disturbing app is a devastating secret weapon for any guy who might have added you to his hardly exclusive list of "chicks to bone this week." All of the social networks that you regularly update can be fed into Creepy, which then ... maybe you should sit down for this ... uses your tweets, wall posts and status updates to pinpoint your exact location.
Via Boingboing.net
We take back what we said about the last picture.
Oh, and it gets worse. If an exact location cannot be determined, Creepy will conveniently provide a list of probable hang-out spots that the stalking victims of choice mention frequently on their social networking accounts. But don't worry. The sort of person who buys an app called Creepy will totally respect your "It's Complicated" relationship status and back off.
Via Switched.com
If you just shivered, you are a rational human.


text:
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Chase Clancy
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Special Gifts Officer
Development and External Relations
Chase Clancy, a Pacific Northwest native from Seattle, joined the McCombs Development and External Relations team in August of 2013. Working first as a Development Associate supporting the Major Gifts Officers, he has since moved into the Special Gifts Officer role in which he works to cultivate relationships and create engagement opportunities for the young alumni and friends of the school in Houston and San Antonio. Prior to joining the McCombs School of Business, Chase was a Development Assistant at Humanities Washington, Washington State's flagship nonprofit for promoting and providing educational programs based in the humanities. Outside of work, Chase enjoys playing music (guitar, bass, and drums) and attending shows, hanging out at the ranch, and exploring Austin's unique food scene. He lives in north Austin with his wife, Amy, and their two overweight bulldogs, Napoleon and Dolly Parton.
Page last updated: 7/28/2016
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©2016 McCombs School of Business, The University of Texas at Austin | Technology Resources | Contact Us


text:
In LaTeX2e, one can write to the standard auxiliary file via the
\@auxout file handle. Are there dedicated LaTeX3 functions (planned) that facilitate writing to
\jobname.aux or is there an equivalent
\@auxout file handle in LaTeX3 we can use with the functions from the
l3file package?
In LaTeX2e, one can write to the standard auxiliary file via the
At present the answer here is 'no', as we do not have structures for the higher-level idea of 'an auxiliary file'. Clearly we will need to address this along with a number of other file-related areas (for example a native mechanism for loading files, akin to
This probably doesn't conform to the guidelines, but
For internal commands to be used in packages, one can think to
and similarly for the


text:
I was wondering how any of you SAHMs schedule your toddler's day. Do you have "art" time and "book" time, or what? If so how do you incorporated them? I used to be a preschool teacher so I am looking for some more structure in our day. DS1 is 17 months old and DS2 is 6 weeks. I would love to see some sample schedules. We have scheduled, lunch, nap, dinner, bath and bed times but I am looking for more enriching activities in his day. I have just signed DS1 up for a gymnastics class on Mondays, an Art class on Wednesdays and a story time and play group on Fridays (they all only last 30 minutes, so not overwhelming). I am looking forward to getting out of the house! They all work out well because they are well before lunch and nap time, but I am looking for some day to day activity guides.
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text:
WHEELING - The sound one normally associates with the Wheeling Vintage Raceboat Regatta is the unmistakable roar of hydroplane boat engines piercing the late summer air downtown, and for good reason.
But that's not all you'll hear if you visit Heritage Port this Labor Day weekend, Aug. 31-Sept. 1. Organizer Debbie Joseph said a variety of musical talent will be on display throughout the event. As always, admission is free, so she invites all to come to the waterfront and enjoy a cheap day out.
"We're really excited about our musical lineup this year," Joseph said. "This is a totally free event. Anybody can come and bring their kids."
Article Photos
TO COMPETE IN WHEELING — Graham Coddington of Queensland, Australia, pilots his vintage hydroplane "Midnight Miss." Coddington has brought his boat all the way from the "Land Down Under" to participate in a variety of American events this summer, including the Wheeling Vintage Raceboat Regatta this Labor Day Weekend. -- Contributed
Following the conclusion of heats on Saturday, Mount Pleasant native Joe Zelek and his new country band "Rust Belt Kings" will headline the evening entertainment with a performance at 7:30 p.m. At 9 p.m., the oldies band "Easy Street" will take the stage.
And during the lunch hour in between heats Saturday and Sunday, the local cover band "Hit Play" will play a variety of popular tunes to keep festival-goers entertained during the breaks. Sunday will also feature a car show with cash prizes from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., and the Ohio Valley Hillhoppers will bring their remote-controlled airplane show during the weekend, as well.
For kids, there will be an assortment of inflatable rides and the ever-popular Sea Quest Kids program will return for a sixth straight year. Beginning the Thursday before the event, children accompanied by a parent can learn about boat safety, help build their very own craft and take it for a maiden voyage on the Ohio River on Sunday.
"If they can stay and work for an hour, that's great. ... The only thing they have to do is have an adult with them to sign a waiver," Joseph said.
The weekend features fun for everyone - but for the diehard boat enthusiast, it's all about the hydroplanes, barely skimming the river's surface as they reach speeds topping 100 mph.
Joseph said 40 to 50 boats are expected to attend, including one, "Midnight Miss" coming all the way from Queensland, Australia. Owner Graham Coddington shipped the boat to America in April and is traveling to about a half-dozen vintage events, including Wheeling's, this summer.
With "Midnight Miss" and at least one Canadian entry confirmed to attend, Joseph is proud to note that for the first time, three different nations will be represented this year. Pits will be open during lunch breaks, Joseph said, giving spectators a chance to see the boats up close and meet the daredevils who pilot them.
Of course, the regatta is about more than fast boats and a good time - it's also about helping children facing major health challenges. Proceeds from the event benefit Easter Seals, which provides services to more than 1 million people with a variety of disabilities each year.
Since the inaugural regatta in 2006, event organizers have donated a total of $34,650 to the organization's Wheeling center. Last year's event raised $7,500, compared to $900 in 2006.
It's a testament to how the event has grown over the years - as well as to the generosity of local businesses who support the regatta each year, according to Joseph. In addition to WesBanco, major sponsors include A.D. Baker Homes, Merco Marine, Savage Crane and Construction, Health Plan, Lowe's of Wheeling and Comcast.
"We've been able to increase our donations every year because of the generosity of our sponsors," Joseph said.


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Mosaic to buy CF phosphate unit for $1.4B
Published: Monday, October 28, 2013 at 9:46 a.m.
Last Modified: Monday, October 28, 2013 at 9:46 a.m.
PLYMOUTH, Minn. - The Mosaic Co. plans to buy the phosphate business of CF Industries in a deal the fertilizer producer values at about $1.4 billion.
The Plymouth, Minn., company will pay $1.2 billion in cash, plus $200 million to fund an escrow account CF Industries uses to fund certain retirement obligations in Florida. The deal gives Mosaic a Florida phosphate mine and treatment and processing plant, plus an ammonia terminal and finished product warehouse facilities in Tampa.
The deal is expected to add about 30 cents per share to Mosaic's 2015 earnings, not counting debt financing costs.
Mosaic expects to save about $500 million because it won't have to build a new processing plant. The CF Industries mine Mosaic is buying is located near a site for another mine Mosaic plans.
Reader comments posted to this article may be published in our print edition. All rights reserved. This copyrighted material may not be re-published without permission. Links are encouraged.


text:
Suppose $M$ is a model of ZFC, and $\mu^M$ is the Lebesgue measure on $\mathbb R^M$ such that $\mu^M(\mathbb R^M)=1$. It is known that if $r$ is a Cohen real over $M$ and $N=M[r]$ then $\mu^N(\mathbb R^M)=0$.
This is a very strong transition from having sets with a full measure being annihilated into nullity. Is it possible that for some[every?] $x\in(0,1)$ there exists $N=M[G]$ a generic extension of $M$ such that $\mu^N(\mathbb R^M)=x$?
If the answer is negative in its full generality ($M$ is just any model of ZFC) can we add some assumptions for a positive answer? (e.g. $M\models CH$)
This is really just idle curiosity which could not be satisfied via Google, references to a possible answer would be just as welcomed as a complete answer


text:
15 Nov 2012 5:42 AM #1
Whats this publish thing
What is this publish thing, I want my deploy button back, How do I deploy and test my project now???????????????
15 Nov 2012 6:00 AM #2
I figured it all out, but I must say, not fond of the change. I hope I grow to like it.
Thanks for the hard work sencha team.
is there any documentation to send to people that run into this problem, Sat down at desk today, and was shocked to see all changes,
Why so many new browser windows every preview or new cmd windows every publish, I use to deploy all the time to view changes.
15 Nov 2012 10:43 AM #3
Deploy was just renamed to Publish.
We're aware that people who publish/deploy frequently are annoyed by the cmd window popping up all over the place. We're working on it.Aaron Conran


text:
Top 15 Children's Books for Black History Month
2 of 16
This Jazz Man
By Karen Ehrhardt
Recommended ages: 3 and up
Music and dance are great themes to explore with little kids during Black History Month. Preschoolers will love this toe-tapping, finger-snapping tribute to African-American jazz giants, set to the rhythm of the classic children's song "This Old Man." The lively illustrations invite kids to "Deedle-di-bop!" along with classic musicians Charlie Parker, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Bill "Bojangles" and more.
Next: Whoever You Are


text:
|Why LoanApp?
There's good reason why you should choose LoanApp.com - it's because we were the first. In 1992, our founders originated the first mortgage over the Internet, and in 1994 they created the first online loan application.
We ensure you are offered incredibly low rates. When you submit just one request on LoanApp, you'll get quotes from up to 4 different lenders.
When lenders send their rates to a LoanApp customer, they know they're not alone. So they know that their rates have to be great.
Is your neighbor's monthly payment less than yours? If it is, maybe he or she used LoanApp! It's easy to start, and you'll be able to see our lenders' rates at no cost to you. Take a look now, while rates are at these historic lows.


text:
Welcome to episoe 105 of Quiet News Day – your weekly helping of the best stories from the world of journalism, social media and public relations.
This week, presenters Scott Douglas and Peter Laing talk through the biggest stories of the week, including the lastest from the ongoing phone hacking enquiry and how new guidelines for membership of the Chartered Institute of Public Relations (CIPR) will affect PR practitioners across the UK.
Scott then talks about the ups and downs of his trial of the new Microsoft mobile phone before the two hosts discuss a new list of the top mobile apps and the importance of having a great corporate website.
As always, links to the stories discussed can be viewed in the shownotes below.


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If you have a job where you work for someone else outside your home, the typical leave of absence for childbirth will be six to eight weeks. This is not necessarily a paid leave. What you are given is the opportunity to return to your job after a certain period of time. If your employer's business is too small to be covered under the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) you may not even have that guarantee. Basically, in that case you cannot expect much of anything unless it is given to you out of the goodness of your employer's heart.
Maternity leave is a job benefit that allows new moms to take several weeks (usually about six) away from the job without jeopardizing their position or seniority.
Six to eight weeks may seem like a lot of time when your baby is not due for several months. You may plan to work until delivery and then spend your maternity leave with baby until you are ready to go back to work. However, your leave also includes any time you might need before you give birth. If you have a difficult pregnancy you may need to use up some of your leave before you even have your baby.
All you can do is try to plan ahead as best as possible, so you are not caught off guard, no matter what happens. As soon as you can after you discover you are pregnant, find out what your employer's policy is on maternity or pregnancy leave. The more information you have, the better you will be able to plan. If your employer does not offer maternity leave, you might want to save up your sick days and vacation time to use instead.
When you're deciding whether you'll stay home with your baby, you need to assess your financial situation. If you choose not to return to work right away after your baby is born, and you know where you stand financially, you can devise all kinds of creative solutions to suit your financial needs. All it takes is simplifying your lifestyle to fit a single income. Here are some likely places to cut costs:
Your partner might feel resentful about having the entire economic responsibility for the family land on his shoulders. Make sure you talk your options through together so he doesn't feel ambushed into the situation. Otherwise, you may be facing a lot of avoidable tension when the baby arrives.
Try to solve the issue of finances and childcare as a team. Keep the discussion focused so it does not bleed into unrelated feelings and issues.
Most middle-class families today rely on two incomes to meet their financial needs. And, as women, we have been socialized to expect to work. Don't be surprised to find that you feel guilty if you choose not to contribute financially to the household. Finances are a very touchy subject, especially when the cause of financial belt-tightening is your desire to stay home with the baby. You may find that your partner feels a little conflicted about your choice. His income alone may not be enough to maintain the household in its accustomed style, and he's also got his own cultural conditioning to deal with: He thinks he should be able to support his wife when she stays home to raise the children. It's a definite ego thing.
As you would in discussions of sex or anything else that touches on a man's sense of self, you want to be sensitive in approaching this subject. If it turns out that you just can't make do on a single income, make sure that your partner doesn't feel he has somehow let you down. Work together to come up with a sensible childcare plan. Or consider changing work shifts so that there's always one parent at home. Or look into alternative work situations—perhaps something that can be done from the home, so that even while you're working you're able to be there for the baby, too.
Forty years ago, when women were expected to stay home and raise children, many women felt oppressed. Women fought very hard for the freedom to choose between a career and staying home to raise children. But now the pendulum has begun to swing back the other way: Many women are discovering that, in spite of today's expectations that they hold down a job outside the home, they want the privilege of staying home with their babies, and they feel torn into little pieces over having to leave their newborn in someone else's care.
This societal shift has set up a real conflict for the new mom. Because we know how hard women had to fight to expand our opportunities, we can end up feeling guilty for deciding to devote ourselves to homemaking and child rearing when our children are young. It's easy to feel as if we're turning our backs on progress.
Professional women have a similar conflict. If they decide to drop out of their career for a while to care for their babies, they run the risk of losing their place in line for advancement. Not only will this professional woman not move up the proverbial corporate ladder, she may lose valuable years of the on-the-job training her male counterparts are receiving.
When I was in law school, my female classmates all expected to have children somewhere between taking the bar exam and saving the world, but no one expected to get off the career track to raise them. Each of us handled her choices in different ways, but I do not know one woman lawyer who did not feel torn by having to choose between the professional and domestic aspects of her personality.
The question of whether to work outside the home or not is significant enough to deserve a lot of attention. Aside from economic realities, a woman's choice to stay at home or go back to her job will have a major impact on her self-concept—more so than most other decisions she faces as a new mom. Those of us born after 1950 have been profoundly influenced by the changing role of women brought about by the woman's movement. Even though no one can clearly define a consensus among women about most issues, we all know there is subtle pressure on all of us to make a life separate from our children.
The important thing is to honestly consider what you want for your life. Try to isolate yourself from the "shoulds," and ignore other people's judgments. There is absolutely nothing wrong with choosing to work full-time while raising children, if that's the right choice for you. And juggling motherhood and career is not impossible: Many women succeed at it, whether they're doing it by choice or out of necessity. It is just very difficult, and requires a great deal of strength and organization if you want to avoid killing yourself in the process.
Excerpted from The Complete Idiot's Guide to Motherhood © 1999 by Deborah Levine Herman. All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Used by arrangement with Alpha Books, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
To order this book visit Amazon's web site or call 1-800-253-6476.
© 2000-2016 Sandbox Networks, Inc. All Rights Reserved.


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This answer to a question about melacha before havdalah notes that in that situation one should say "baruch hamavdil bein kodesh l'chol" first. Does that apply to lighting the havdalah candle? I have never learned that women who don't daven (pray) ma'ariv, but who make havdalah themselves, should do anything special first before lighting the candle, but isn't lighting the candle melacha? Should a woman who makes her own havdalah always say "baruch..." first and then proceed with havdalah? Or does melacha that is required for havdalah have some special status that makes this not a concern?
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Bootstrapping problem: havdalah ends shabbat (for one who didn't daven ma'ariv) but lighting the candle is melacha?
Yes. Women should formally end shabbat before lighting a havdala candle after shabbat has ended, i.e. after nightfall on Saturday.
First of all, women certainly can daven maariv and say attah chonantanu.
Second, the Rama in OC 299:10 quotes an opinion that the only reason labor is forbidden before havdala is lest one forget to say havdala. Accordingly, one could do non-labor intensive work immediately after shabbat, including lighting a candle. The Rama suggests that this opinion is why many are lenient regarding the prohibition on labor before havdalah. However, he and many later poskim hold that the halacha should not be in accordance with this view, and it would thus be proper to recite maariv or 'baruch hamavdil' before lighting the havdala candle.
Additionally, the Be'er Heitiv (on the page there) advocates teaching the women (who at the time were largely uneducated) to refrain from lighting candles until formally ending shabbat.
Say "Baruch HaMavdil bein Kodesh LeChol" -- blessed is He who separates between sacred and ordinary. As long as it's late enough after sunset, one can then do shabbos-prohibited activity, even before Havdalah.
It's commonly stated (though not necessarily historically validated) that Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev composed a Yiddish post-shabbos prayer, "Got fun Avraham", in part to serve this purpose, as it contains the phrase az dir lieber shabbos koidesh get aveck ... ("as the holy Sabbath departs ...")
The Chayei Adam feels it is fitting, even after saying Baruch HaMavdil, that "no man of Israel kindle flame before havdalah"; I think this is a look/feel thing, not a technical halachic obligation.
It's also recommended to do havdalah as soon as possible when you're ready to end shabbos. Firstly we don't delay mitzvahs; more importantly, you're not allowed to eat/drink anything (other than water) once the time for Havdalah has come, until you've made Havdalah. I've seen situations where people waited and waited around for havdalah and started snacking in the meantime (which they really shouldn't do).


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Your resolution to get organized just got a little easier to fulfill: our Profolio Photo Album & Art Portfolios provide the means to getting and keeping your photos, post cards, menus, art work, greeting cards, and other keepsakes organized and protected. The Profolio Photo Album is extremely thin and compact, yet accommodates 120 photos up to 4" x 6" in size. The inside cover features a pocket to store discs or negatives. Each Art Portfolio has 24 sleeves made of polypropylene, so they are archival quality and won't promote damage or deterioration, and will not cause ink to transfer from printed pieces. A sheet of black paper divides each sleeve to create 48 pages for your collections.
Enter your zip code for product availability and pickup options at your nearest store or select a store by state.
The way these albums are bound allows the pages to lie flat when open; some albums of this sort have pages that will roll and flip if not weighed down. The spine label is removable, so you can customize and identify your various portfolios and albums. The 14" x 17 size will accommodate a folded newspaper or tabloid - great for headlines collectors. Make a memory book for a loved one, a print or fashion model's photography portfolio, a fashion designer's portfolio, a scrap book from a special vacation, or a professional presentation for a business meeting.


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Elaine Gilliam
Meeting Manager/Communities Relations
My role as meetings manager will be to create the best possible environment for the members of STC and other technical communication professionals to learn from the experts, have the opportunity to improve their skills and to spend time exchanging ideas with each other. STC is the leading professional organization for the industry and the best source for information. I look forward to assisting in making the conferences the definitive meeting place.
Conferences are more than just rooms with tables and chairs. Conferences provide a vehicle for networking with peers, communicating information, and recognizing those who have excelled in their profession. STC's mission for providing opportunities for ongoing learning and professional networking to its members is implemented with the annual conferences, regional and chapter local meetings.
Elaine Gilliam brings more than 15 years of meeting planning experience to the position of meetings manager with STC. She was with the American Diabetes Association for three years as the director of convention operations. Before working with the ADA, she worked with Document Management Industries Association (a trade association) for 12 years handling all aspects of all their meetings. Prior to that Elaine held a position with Xerox Corporation planning sales team meetings and customer visits that included transportation, lodging, catering and special events.
Elaine has in-depth knowledge of contract negotiations which will be a benefit for future STC annual conferences as well as an excellent resource for the regions and chapters as they plan their local meetings. She is experienced with the development and monitoring of event budgets, overseeing on-site activities and working with all associated service providers. This set of skills will help STC in keeping expenses in check and still provide the best possible venues for STC's meetings.
Elaine has planned meetings in some of the largest convention centers in the United States, including Orange County Convention Center in Orlando, Moscone Center in San Francisco, Navy Pier in Chicago and the Philadelphia Convention Center. In addition, she has planned board of directors' meetings and knows the level of service these meetings require.
Her varied association experience gives Elaine a thorough understanding of the needs of association members. She recognizes the value a well organized meeting adds to an organization, and is sensitive to the needs of the attendees so that they will be able to get the most from the time they invest at a meeting.


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Bowling Green Police say at 7:50p.m. December 31, a man entered the Jr. Food Store near Greenwood High School. The man approached the counter and noticed the donation jar for American Cancer Society.
While the clerk was helping another customer, the man helped himself to the money jar filled with donations for the American Cancer Society. Employees estimate the jar contained $25.00 in donations.
If you have any information about this or any crime, please call South Central Kentucky Crime Stoppers at 781-CLUE, toll free at 866-842-CLUE, or click here to go to their web site. Or you can "text a tip" to Crime Stoppers. Text "SCKY" plus your message to 274637 (Crimes). All information is secure and you will remain anonymous.
Crime Stoppers only wants your information, not your name. Their telephone lines are not recorded and they don't use caller ID or *69.


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Sketch the graph of each of the following (labelling asymptotes), and state the range of each: $y=3^x+1$
is below graph. I have no idea, how can it get $(0,2)$ i know that the $+1$ is asymptotes, Isn't it $(0,2)$ suppose to be $(0,3) $accroding to the equation.
Appreciate your explaination! thanks


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Baby's First Steps
In This Article:
...Must Come Down
When you "rescue" your child from a standing position, don't just scoop her up. Show her a better way: sitting down. Gently bend your baby's knees and lower her bottom as far as it can go without having her let go yet. Then gently pry her clinging fingers from her support, take her hands in yours, and lower her until her bottom hits the floor.
After building her confidence with this approach, try letting her drop down on her bottom. Take her hands in yours, but if her bottom stays close to the ground, let her go. Just make sure your baby lands safely. Be ready to catch her if she starts to topple over to one side or the other with the impact.
As soon as your baby starts to practice pulling herself to a standing position, secure all the furniture she might use as supports. Because lightweight furniture will probably not bear your child's weight as she tries to pull herself up, she may end up on her back on the floor with the piece of furniture on top of her. Though your baby probably won't get seriously hurt this way, she could become scared or discouraged.
When your baby stands there crying, you will of course go over, rescue your darling by gently sitting her down, and praise her for her courage and skill. Yet almost immediately, she'll pop up onto her feet again, repeating her new trick. This time, it won't take nearly as long for her to figure out that she's stuck again. She'll cry out again, and you'll help her sit down again. But as soon as her bottom hits the floor, she may do it all over again. Now it's become a game for her-and hopefully for you, too.
Whether or not you help your baby discover how to sit, she will quickly learn how to do it on her own. Probably within a week or two of first standing, your baby will lower herself as far as she can go and then bravely drop the last few inches. It won't take more than one drop for your baby to figure out that she won't get hurt (as long as she lands on her well-padded bottom). She may even start to have as much fun dropping down with a thump on the floor as she did pulling herself up in the first place.
Until your baby learns how to fall safely, you may tire of the pulling up, getting stuck, and calling for help game long before your child will. After helping her sit back down half a dozen times, you may be ready for something new. If your baby seems obsessed with the game, try to distract her. Move her away from whatever she's using as a support and sit her down with one of her favorite toys-or try giving her a new toy that she's never played with before.
If your baby immediately leaves the toy and crawls back to her standing spot to pull herself back up, you'll have to indulge her or resort to more drastic measures. Try taking her completely out of the house, maybe for a walk in her stroller or a ride in the car. By the time you get back, your baby may have forgotten her new trick-but not for long.
When your baby first learns to stand (or cruise or walk), it will be nerve-racking for you. You'll see dangers long before your child does. (When you do, remove them or steer your baby away from them.) You'll see she's about to fall, but know you can't get across the room in time to catch her. (Don't worry--as long as you've removed sharp--cornered furniture. Your baby doesn't have very far to fall.)
Although your baby's first weeks of standing, cruising, and walking will be hard on your nerves, don't react by banishing her to a playpen. With practice, she'll get better at maintaining balance and avoiding dangerous falls. But she won't get any practice at all while cooped up in the prison of a playpen. (A playpen with mesh sides may not even allow her to pull herself up.)
More on: Babies
Excerpted from The Complete Idiot's Guide to Bringing Up Baby © 1997 by Kevin Osborn. All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Used by arrangement with Alpha Books, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
To order this book visit the Idiot's Guide web site or call 1-800-253-6476.


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CRAWFORD, W. Lee, age 53, of Toronto, (Knoxville,) OH, went home to the Lord Sunday, December 16, 2012 at the Valley Hospice Care Center, North, Steubenville, OH.
He was born June 21, 1959 in Steubenville, OH, the son of William H. Crawford who passed away October 23, 1984 and Eleanor Grace Moreland Crawford who passed away December 15, 2005.
Lee was a member of the First Presbyterian Church of Toronto where he loved to sing and help direct the choir from his pew; was an honorary member of the Knoxville Volunteer Fire Department from the time it was founded in 1967 and loved to say "I am a Fireman", was a member and Special Director of the Jefferson Ruritan Club having received three Ruritan Member of the Year Plaques and always liked to make a speech at the Ruritan meetings and functions. His life had more ups than "downs".
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Lee retired from the School of Bright Promise Workshop and participated in all Mini Relay 4 Life events; he was an avid traveler, golfer, fisherman and a lover and hugger to all he knew; was a video fanatic (My Favorite Martian and Mr. Ed of late).
His smile gave all others joy and he had a strong belief in Jesus and God. If God were to laugh, it has got to be like Lee's giggles.
Lee was preceded in death by his parents and grandfather, Sam Crawford.
He is survived by his loving sister and best friend, Connie M. Crawford, of the family home; his cats, Sammy and Fritzie, and his bestest buddy, Karen Lundquist. He leaves many, many friends who loved Lee and who Lee loved and loved to hug.
Friends and family will be received for visitation 5-9 p.m. Tuesday, December 18, 2012 at the Clarke Funeral Home, 302 Main St., Toronto, 740- 537-1234 or 1-855- 847-1240.
Jefferson Ruritan services at 7 p.m. Tuesday and Knoxville Volunteer Fire Dept. services 7:30 p.m. Tuesday, both at the funeral home.
A celebration service of Lee's life will be held 11 a.m. Wednesday, December 19, 2012, at the funeral home with the Reverend Michael Bongart officiating. Interment will follow at the Island Creek Cemetery, County Road 46, Toronto.
In lieu of flowers, please make a donation to the First Presbyterian Church, 116 N. Third St., Toronto, OH 43964 or the Knoxville Vol. Fire Dept, State Rt. 152, Toronto, OH 43964 or the Toronto Volunteer Fire Dept., S. Fourth, Toronto, OH 43964
To view the obituary, sign the guest register or send condolences to the family go to www.clarkefuneralhome.com