Percey’s Seaside Antiques

This is the start to my story, it begins with an older lady named Angela Percey who owns an antique shop on the island of Saint Crista. Don’t worry though, the main character of this story isn’t this old lady with a bad memory, she just happens to the person I open with. Maybe you’ll meet the main character later though. But enjoy the small amount I’m posting of what’s going to turn into a zombie story!

Angela Percey was gazing outside the window of her little shop, Percey’s Seaside Antiques, when the sun began to fade behind the encroaching clouds.

To her it was just another day of business. She stood at her post behind the cash register, in wait for one of the shoppers to purchase some of her antiques; or as she liked to call them, her “pre-owned treasures”. Of course, she never really expected anyone to purchase anything, they rarely did. But she didn’t mind, being a widowed older lady in her mid-sixties, she just enjoyed the company of the occasional local or traveller to talk to. She actually loved to hear about the travelling and life stories of her visitors, as well as talking to some of the locals that stopped by. In fact, Angela loved her antique shop in general, it meant everything to her over the last thirty-five years that she’s been running it.

As the clouds overtook to sun, there were only four customers present at Percey’s. Only one Angela recognized as a local and like most of the residences that came in, she knew he was a fisherman. Other than that, she couldn’t remember his name, making her grow quite frustrated with her once quick mind.

She didn’t recognize any of the other three customers though, they were most likely tourists since the island of Saint Crista attracted an estimated half a million guests every year. That was always something that baffled Angela though, she could never understand nor envision that amount of people. It was probably since she only left the island once in her life, which is something she vowed to never do again. She liked the simple and stress free life that she had there, so she never felt as though she ever really needed to leave the island. For Angela, where most people see the world as small, it was always huge to her, and quite a monstrosity too.

She lived in the larger of the two towns on the island, Port Champlayne. In general, both of the towns were fairly small, with Port Chanplayne consisting of about four thousand people. Then there’s the smaller of the two, Bellwich Bay, having only about three hundred folks residing in the town. Other than the size though, both towns were mainly occupied by fishermen, retirees, and tourists from all over the world.

As Angela was lost in her own thoughts, the local fisherman then began to walk towards her, snapping her out of her own thoughts and also cause her to straighten her posture. The fisherman shot a smile at her, which she returned immediately, yet still fighting with her brain to remember his name. But almost as soon as he smiled, his face immediately went flat, straight into an empty and lifeless expression. Angela had never actually seen such an expression before, it was almost as if the soul had been sucked right out of the fisherman. All of the colour had left his face, his lips went completely flat, his eyes lifeless and no longer looking at Angela, moreso looking right through her. Angela began to feel an odd tingling sensation run over her body from head to toe, and even though it had passed quite quickly, her heart rate doubled as a result.

It was in that moment she noticed that the fisherman’s face didn’t just turn completely lifeless, his entire body did as well. He stood there in mid stride with his right foot protruded forward and arms still in their swing, but he was frozen in place. Not so much as a muscle twitch could be seen come off of his body. Nothing.

Everything about the fisherman began to horrify Angela, she reached up and placed her hands over the hollow of her neck, where her mothers medallion could always be found. She clutched onto it tightly, and told herself a quick prayer, something she had become quite accustomed to since her husband had passed away from a heart attack no more than two years prior. After a few minutes to take in the scene before her, Angela’s slow and old brain finally began to work again, and she reluctantly took her eyes off of the fisherman to look at the rest of the store.

Her shop was quite dark for mid afternoon, the clouds had blocked out a lot of the suns light, and caused an eerie green glow to protrude through the windows. Everything was very quiet though, and all Angela could hear was her own heart beating. The other three guests looked the same as the fisherman. Perfectly still. Almost as if God had pressed the pause button on all other life in her store.

Two of the people were together, Angela observed earlier when they arrived that they were a young couple, she assumed on a honeymoon or something of the sort. But now, they were frozen in place, looking at some of Angela’s antique tableware, holding her favorite bowl that she remembered was made in Sicily. On the outside, the bowl wasn’t anything special, just white porcelain. But on the inside it had the most beautiful hand painted rendition of Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam. In the back of her mind, she wondered how she could remember a bowl was made in Sicily, but couldn’t remember a fisherman’s name. But that thought quickly passed.

The last person in Percey’s Seaside Antiques, was a middle aged woman who was completely still in a very thoughtful pose. To Angela, it looked almost as though the lady could be a mannequin, especially with her ghostly white face and the soulless expression that had subdued all of the customers in the antique store.

Angela closed her eyes, horrified at the frozen people before her, but partially frozen in place herself as a result of utter fear. She clenched her medallion with both of her hands tightly, causing the flesh in her knuckles to turn white. She prayed. It was a while since she last attended church, probably longer than she would have liked to admit. But she recited every prayer that she could remember in her head, with her eyes clamped tightly the whole time and embracing the medallion Angela’s mother had passed down to her during her childhood.

Suddenly there was a series of loud thuds that filled the room, accompanied by the sound of something breaking. The loud noise caused Angela to jump and snap open her eyes which immediately fell on the porcelain bowl, now in several pieces scattered across the floor. She scanned through the pieces of her beloved bowl and frowned deeply at the sight of it, but then she noticed the young couple that were admiring its beauty were now littered on the floor next to the porcelain shards.

Tears began to fill Angela’s eyes, as she continued to notice that all of her customers were now in a lifeless phase on the floor, appearing to be dead. Her legs began to shake under her due to fear of the situation and she fell to her knees as tears began to stream down her cheeks. She could not fathom what had happened, but was much too shaken still to try and do anything about it. Her hands finally broke free from her medallion, but only to bury her face into her hands instead, letting out a shriek of a mixture of grief, horror and shock.

After a few moments, she managed to take some deep breaths, or at least enough to stop the crying. As she wiped the tears from her cheeks and eyes, she took another glance around the room with a deep feeling that she was the only one alive in the entire store. Angela’s eyes eventually met the fisherman’s face, he still had his eyes open, a vision that would bothered her for the rest of what life she left. In his eyes, she could see the whites of them slowly turn red and his once brown iris was now completely black.

It was at that moment when she was looking into his strange eyes, she finally remembered his name.

“If you can dream it, then you can do it. Always remember this whole thing was started with a dream and a mouse” – Walt Disney
Tyson Trepidations.
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She Raped My Braces!

I love visiting my friends in San Francisco, its an amazing and beautiful city with so many unique features and a very

A Picture I Took Of The Wacky Jacky Approaching San Fran!

homely feel. I’ve been there a couple of times already, but I’m still compelled to return to see and experience more that the city has to offer, even though I’ve seen quite a bit of it already. Everything that I have seen so far has been spectacular and really made me fall in love with the city. They have some wonderful beaches there, beautiful neighbourhoods, a great Chinatown, historical stories at places like Alcatraz and some great venues like the San Francisco Ballet and all the best food you can find.

The last time I was there was back in February, over reading break from the university. The other times I’ve been there, I have spent a couple weeks at a week a time, so this one was a tad shorter being only ten days. Even though it was shorter, I still had an incredible time and gained a lot of new experiences.

With that said, its not really what I’m making this post for though. This post is for a story of mine, an experience I had while partying in San Francisco with my friends. It took me this long to finally repeat it because still, to this day, I’m very confused by it and stunned as well.

My friends that I visit there are a large Mormon family that is quite attuned to their religion and attend church whenever they are able to. It’s actually something quite different to me, since I grew up without a religion, but I sure learned a lot from my friends there. Anyways, on one of the Friday nights that I was present, they were invited out to a party by a number of people they go to church with and decided to take me along.

I’m not too much of a partier myself, but every once in a while I like to go out, have a few drinks and meet new people. So I was happy to join them and experience how the people party around there.

It was quite different than what I’m used to.

Maybe other parties around San Francisco are similar to those that I have seen, but this one was off the wall. It was more like a house that was turned into a club/rave filled with Mormon’s of all ages. It was quite a nice house too, had an amazing view of the valley and featured three floors plus two basements. So needless to say, it didn’t take long for me to get separated from my friends, but that was alright at the time.

I was quite pumped from the energy there and also quite loose from some drinks I had before coming. Not to mention, when I got there the hosts gave us another couple of drinks, each.

Before long I was dancing with some random people that flagged me down into their group. I was actually having quite a bit of fun dancing and learning some crazy new moves from some of the random people that surrounded me. The people there were all so nice and got along great, I kinda wondered if they were all from the same church; I saw their church a few days before too, it was massive! So That wouldn’t have surprised me neither.

Usually when I go out, I don’t drink all too much, just a few drinks to let loose really and get a nice buzz. But that night I think I overdid it a little too much. Mostly, I think it was the type of drinks we had, usually I have something light, like a beer or a mix of gin and tonic as my favorite. That night though, I had some pretty heavy stuff. I don’t think any of them were under 30% alcohol, so I’m pretty sure I was a little more than drunk.

While in my group of new friends, there was this one girl that was getting pretty close to me and occasionally grinding against my body, throwing in some dirty dancing as well. At first it felt a little wrong to me, knowing that most of these girls were raised in a very respecting religious family (or at least that’s what I’ve been told), but again, after that many drinks it was only filtered into a tiny portion of my brain that swept the thought away pretty quickly.

Then she kissed me.

I didn’t really expect it, and honestly, I don’t even remember when she started, but that girl was going at my lips pretty savagely.

Then things started to get a little weird.

I’m referring to when that girl started licking my braces, its like when she started, she couldn’t stop! She just stuck her tongue right in there and licked it all over, even the parts in the back. I never knew someone could have a tongue that long! Heck, I think she would have tongued me right down my esophagus if I stayed much longer. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good kisser, but this girl really took things beyond my level of kissing, more towards the rapage of my poor braces…

… I sure hope I had no food hiding somewhere in them neither….

What really snapped me out of my drunken daze though, was what she said into my ear next. I was a little shocked and wasn’t sure if I heard it right at first, nor did I understand what she was talking about; but after a moment I knew what it was, mostly due to what she did.

“I like the feeling of it growing my hand”, is exactly what she said into my ear.

Like I mentioned, I had no idea what she was talking about. It all became apparent though because not long after she told me that, I could feel her hand sliding down to my crotch. Even though I was fairly drunk, what she said and did really woke me up and I felt very awkward in that position. She wasn’t a bad looking girl at all. But with all that, I just couldn’t function properly anymore.

Not in a good way neither.

So I told her that I would be right back to use the washroom.

But I never returned.

Instead, I found my friends and we all agreed that it was time to leave, and had a cab pick us up. It almost seemed like a cab was waiting for someone to call too, because basically as soon as we called, one was waiting outside for us. Which for me, wasn’t a bad thing. I was actually quite afraid that girl would come hunting for me.

So there you have it, my interesting experience partying in San Francisco. It also turns out that the girl does attend my friend’s church, and usually she’s a really shy and sweet individual. But for me, she always be known as the Braces Raping Girl.

 

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” – Lao Tzu

 

Tyson Trepidations.

Sending Kids To Summer Camp

During my childhood and part of my teenage years, I was fortunate enough to attend a summer camp five times. Every one that I went to is infused in my brain forever and stand out as some of the most fun and memorable moments of my life. So I think if a parent gets a chance or wonders if they should send their kid to summer camp, they should most definitely research one close by (or not necessarily close) and send their kid without hesitation. The skills, memories and friends they come home with, stay with them forever. Childhood memories are something I would never want to lose or replace with anything.

The first time I went to a summer camp was when I was about 10. I went to Sunnybrae Bible Camp, located along the incredible shores of Shuswap lake and at the base of the pristine Mount Bastion. It was a beautiful camp with really expert staff, and perfectly executed activities and plans. They definitely had the experience and the resources necessary to give kids the best of time while there.

At Sunnybrae, they have tonnes of activities to choose from to make for a new experience all the time, such things ranging from archery, to swimming, to learning a little more about the bible and religion. All of their camps for kids are a week long and cost $235 + British Columbia’s HST tax. But it isn’t just limited to kids, they have teen and family packs as well. Also, even if your kid isn’t raised with a religion (much like myself), I think its still a great opportunity in their development. At Bible camp, they don’t push religion onto anyone. I just think its just a great way to introduce the Bible to kids and a little of the western religious history. It’s an important part of the worlds development and culture, so I think its a little incompetent to not be at least be a little familiar with the Bible and religion.

The other four years that I went to a summer camp, were spend at the Vernon Army Cadet Summer Training Center (VACSTC). I was in cadets for seven years, from the time I was 12 until I aged out at 19.

When I was 14, I went to VACSTC for the first time doing a Cadet Leader course that lasted six weeks, then the year after that I did a Cadet Leader Instructor summer camp course in one of the prestigious Drill and Ceremonial platoons for another six weeks. During both of those years I had an amazing time, learned tonnes of new skills and made plenty new friends that I’m still friends with today.

While attending VACSTC there are a number of different camps to attend that are specialized for different purposes like music, drill, shooting, and athletics. With those camps come a series of lessons as well, based on the different types of camp you choose to go to. Besides the lesson, there are a tonne of fun activities included in each; things like absailing, beach days, water slides, sports nights and even looking at some of the local tourist attractions in and around Vernon, British Columbia. This camp is free, paid for by the Department of National Defence. But your kid actually gets a bonus for going, not much though, just $60 per week spent at camp and you have to be in cadets to be able to attend. But the memories and bonds that you make at Cadet camp are those in which you keep forever.

Myself and Two Other Staff Serving As Flag Party

Lastly, I also spent another 2 consecutive years at VACSTC. I had such an amazing time every time I went, that I wanted to return, but this time as staff. For the first year I was the high ranked warrant officer for the Rifle Coach platoon, specializing in familiarization with several different rifles. The next year I was again a Warrant officer, but this time for a platoon in Drill and Ceremonial. As a leader and staff, I was in charge of about 30 kids with one or two other platoon warrants at my side. We were in charge of their safety, supervision, fun and we were the ones that passed on the commands to them.

Since I was staff, it was a paid position (quite generously, I might add) under a seven week contract. The first week there is spent meeting the other staff and getting a rundown of what we would be doing with the kids for the last six weeks and going over the rules.

Even to this day I still make time to go and visit some of my friends from camp, as well as visit some of the kids that I taught while staffing there. Just before my roadtrip I went and visit with one of the kids I taught that lives in Vancouver, but in August I’m also going to visit some friends I staffed with in the place where it started, Vernon, BC. I honestly can’t wait to see them and I think if any parent gets the chance, they should send their kid to summer camp. It gets them out of the way for a little so the parent can relax for a bit of the summer themselves, but it also lets their kid explore different aspects of the world, learn tonnes of new skills, and come home with a million new friends. All-in-all, summer camp is amazing.

“To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie –
True Poems flee” – Emily Dickinson

Tyson Trepidations.