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Waiting by the Edge of a Pond He sat on a rock by the edge of the pond as the sky above was slowly transmuting from gold to deep gray-blue, and he watched as the shafts of dying light made little gemstones dance across the ripples.

His grandmother had called it elf-light, this type of twilight, where it rimmed the rocks and the trees with halos and made their edges soft, and that, she'd said, was the time when the elves came out. He almost smiled as he thought of it, then picked up a stick and twirled a leaf which was floating just beyond the rock. It was always peaceful here, but so much more so in the twilight. He could not hear anything from the town and the roads w

Yellow Brick FrontThe bakery at the end of the block had a yellow brick façade, so you could always pick it out as soon as you turned off the main drag onto the cross street, and it's what made the street famous. Between the rows and rows of look alike houses with slanted roofs and same-old red brick fronts, there stood the bakery like a golden gift wrapped box waiting to be opened.

It had everything you possibly could have imagined; the gooiest chocolate chip cookies, the sweetest pizzelles, and the fluffiest, richest bread. Half a block away you could smell you were coming up on it, and every Sunday the baker who owned it would bring his trays out to t

Ghost Field France/Belgium border area
1928

It's near dawn now, and it is the most still and beautiful moment of time when the sky is deep and dark, and the stars are brilliant diamonds sewn on blue velvet. This is the time when I unfold myself and stretch – though I have no limbs to crack, not now – and I am alone between the tall grasses, whispering in the early morning breeze. I am always the first to rise. I think it's cold, but I do not feel it, because cold is not something I understand apart from my normal state. I guess, however, because what I am waiting for has finally returned.

At my feet there stands a tiny white campion shive

In Silence, My ViolinCorporeally speaking he was there that night in the officer's club. His fingers fiddled with his glass of scotch, twirling the tumbler 'round slowly on the countertop, and his foot tapped out the beat of the leisurely foxtrot played by the band. Occasionally, his head nodded to a particular uniform or face of familiarity which floated by to join the card tables in the back. So, corporeally speaking, all the parts were there. It was the mind that had drifted off this time.

Normally Neil Andrews preferred keeping his mind and his body in the same place. On the rare occasions that his thoughts felt they needed to wander he would take a walk an

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Tommiesby =doughboycafe

Scraps

It's time for some Tommies, no?

L to R: Sgt. Miles Eberly (Ebony), Cpt. Grant Heathrow (we all know him nay?), and Lt. William Babcock.

I cried a little when Julie showed me this. It is supposed to be c. 1915 when these boys first joined up, and it's really upsetting to me to see how far down they go in 2.5 years in the field. Heath especially gets so lean and nasty like a stray dog.

He was older than most when joining the war so he was always kind of the "adult" around kids. He and Babsy were friends prior to the war but I think there was still a bit of an age gap. Needless to say, the ensuing events of Grant's life will take away the protector role.

So sad, he used to be so sweet and handsome.

Anyhow, Ebs is known for being the guy with the mortar thrower, Babsy is the son of a newspaper editor and therefore has a soft spot for the press (though even he is not certain about PV Alderdeiss), and Heath is Heath and we all know him.

Some book snips:

Ebs:
He was thin, but with a wide jaw, as if in another place and time he may have filled out with muscles and been a prize fighter. As it was, years of war had left him skinny, and tired. He should have been twenty or so, Marc thought, but by the eyes, and the growth of his beard, he looked ten years further towards his grave.
Still, he had about him that trademark, dogged cheerfulness that the British always carried, and he tried to smile despite himself, and Marc tried to smile back.
“New gear handed out today. Lucky us, eh? It’s like going back to school,” the Sergeant said bitterly. “Eh, I’ve got no manners.” He stuck out a hand. “Eberly. They call me Ebony, the Black Man.”

Heath:
He was a handsome man with eyes as green as peridots. His face was neatly shaven, perhaps the only thing about him that still bespoke the status he had come from in England, for the uniform he wore was just as filthy as anyone else who lived in the field. But there was a leanness about him, too, and not just in the body. It was something about his spirit, how his eyes held suspicion in them, and glanced about from side to side occasionally as if he expected to see the end of a Jerry gun at any moment. It seemed he had gone hungry for a long time, starving for rest and the lack of it had worn him down in the soul, and it made him uncomfortable to look at.

Words & Heath, Ebs (c)

Art & Babsy (c)

*JuneRevolver Apr 24, 2011 Student Filmographer

but no really i love how manly they look i dunno if it makes sense but...its very hard for me to try and dark the studly jaw lines or cheek features and I admire that a lot here.

*JuneRevolver Apr 24, 2011 Student Filmographer

man...candy.

=doughboycafe Apr 24, 2011 Professional Writer

ROFL XD

~AnneCat Apr 21, 2011

Oh! Look at Eberly. I like his expression here *so* much. It's sort of mellow/good-natured/skeptical, with a sense of life and movement about it. And Heathrow... that just makes me sad. I feel sad for all of them. But he changes more than the rest, and it's awful to see him when he's still a decent, handsome man, full of promise. Very nice job on Babcock's light coloring -- the light hair, eyebrows, eyes, all came out really well. I have to admit, I also have a soft spot for the Tommy commissioned officers' uniforms, with their notched collars and neckties. It adds to the sadness about Heathrow, for me -- seeing him looking so trim and civilized, this way, before he gets ragged and savage.

=doughboycafe Apr 21, 2011 Professional Writer

I know, I <3 Babsy to pieces. And I am so very sad for Grant. :C

~oboe-wan Apr 21, 2011 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Yeah, British officers' jackets look so modern and dapper! The poufy pants are a little lame though, you have to admit.

~AnneCat Apr 21, 2011

Uh, yes. I can't compliment the poufy pants. I think the majority of officers stopped wearing them relatively quickly, though, once they realized the Germans had figured out to aim for "the ones with the skinny knees." Whoops.

~CharmQuark Apr 20, 2011

Oh my god. As soon as humanly possible I am going to have to sit down and go through your whole gallery. There's so much CHARACTER here! Love their expressions, and your descriptions, and how much of a relationship the picture conveys...

=doughboycafe Apr 21, 2011 Professional Writer

Thank you so much for the tommy love!!

And you don't have to go through the gallery when there is a cheat sheet!!!

Well, it doesn't have any writing samples but it's still a good overview >_>

~Ekuboryu Apr 20, 2011

Nice job with the Brit uniforms, Miss J.

They are all so young and cute and hopeful. You are righ. it's tragic.

Eberley is so cute though, I am growing irrationally fond of him. I think this is because have no Tree to love anymore; I have to love Ebs in his stead.

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