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The Appography Group

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William Franco
William Franco

Under The Sunset Glow By C.H. Young


Ever since Si Yuanyuan obtained the Sunset Glow Scripture, she began to defeat all the young talents in Crimson Night Kingdom.She is using this scripture to beekeeping method to collect the glow.




Under the Sunset Glow by C.H. Young



Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips the two young women preceded us out onto a rosy-colored porch open toward the sunset where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind.


There is no accounting for what birds do. It is the custom, almost universal, in birddom to mate and breed in the spring of the year. Even in the tropics this holds good. The pelicans of the Gulf of Mexico breed in April, yet those of the East Coast begin their mating and flock to the single rookery, which is the nesting place of all East Coast pelicans, in November. Just below the twenty-eighth parallel of latitude there is in a sheltered bay in the Indian River a low, sandy island about three acres in extent. Here all East Coast pelicans breed, and have done so since man has known the Indian River. The pioneer birds who first chose this island chose wisely. The place is as far north as they dare breed for fear of cold, which would kill the young birds. These are born naked and for the first few weeks of their existence die of cold even under ordinary temperature, if left unbrooded over fifteen minutes. Hence one or the other of the parent birds keeps the nest during that time. On the other hand, they wish to be as far north as they can for two reasons. One is that excessive heat kills the unprotected young as well as cold. Another is that the menhaden fishing is better up the coast than down. Any fish is good enough for the palate of the adult pelican, but for some reason the birds prefer to feed their young almost entirely on menhaden.


The time was when these pelicans that brood three thousand young birds in all stages from fresh-laid eggs to youngsters that can fly and are as big as their parents, could gauge exactly the distance at which a shotgun will kill. In those days, before the Department of Agriculture made this tiny islet a Government reservation, and through the efforts of the Audubon Society Warden Kroegel had been made its guardian, twelve thousand feet spread of pelican wings were in the air at shooting distance every time a boat approached. But pelicans are canny birds and they have now learned to sit tight. They simply lift their heads high, draw their feet up under them so as to be ready for a spring if need be, and look at you with all the vast dignity of which the bird is capable. The lightsome frivolity of my white-necked pelican down in the little cove is not for this place. Nor is there any look of real alarm in their wise and solemn old faces as I step out of the boat and walk slowly up among them.


At nightfall soft winds from the sea blow the crimson sunset up over the little island and hang it in gorgeous tapestry all along a pearl-blue, western sky. Through this gorgeous glow the last pelicans sail silently home. The hoarse cries of the feeding young sound through the rapidly growing dusk, the old birds bathe in the river still crimson with reflections of the passing sunset glory, and then silence broods over the brooding thousands. The young are warm and snug between the mother bird and the nest, and the old birds sleep with head tucked under wing.


When Madame Bovary was in the kitchen she went up to thechimney. With the tips of her fingers she caught her dress atthe knee, and having thus pulled it up to her ankle, held outher foot in its black boot to the fire above the revolving legof mutton. The flame lit up the whole of her, penetrating with acrude light the woof of her gown, the fine pores of her fairskin, and even her eyelids, which she blinked now and again. Agreat red glow passed over her with the blowing of the windthrough the half-open door. On the other side of the chimney ayoung man with fair hair watched her silently.


Not only the Meyricks, whose various knowledge had been acquired by theirregular foraging to which clever girls have usually been reduced, butDeronda himself, with all his masculine instruction, had been roused bythis apparition of Mirah to the consciousness of knowing hardly anythingabout modern Judaism or the inner Jewish history. The Chosen People havebeen commonly treated as a people chosen for the sake of somebody else;and their thinking as something (no matter exactly what) that ought tohave been entirely otherwise; and Deronda, like his neighbors, hadregarded Judaism as a sort of eccentric fossilized form which anaccomplished man might dispense with studying, and leave to specialists.But Mirah, with her terrified flight from one parent, and her yearningafter the other, had flashed on him the hitherto neglected reality thatJudaism was something still throbbing in human lives, still making forthem the only conceivable vesture of the world; and in the idlingexcursion on which he immediately afterward set out with Sir Hugo he beganto look for the outsides of synagogues, and the title of books about theJews. This awakening of a new interest - this passing from the suppositionthat we hold the right opinions on a subject we are careless about, to asudden care for it, and a sense that our opinions were ignorance - is aneffectual remedy for ennui, which, unhappily, cannot be secured on aphysician's prescription; but Deronda had carried it with him, and enduredhis weeks of lounging all the better. It was on this journey that he firstentered a Jewish synagogue - at Frankfort - where his party rested on aFriday. In exploring the Juden-gasse, which he had seen long before, heremembered well enough its picturesque old houses; what his eyes chieflydwelt on now were the human types there; and his thought, busilyconnecting them with the past phases of their race, stirred that fibre ofhistoric sympathy which had helped to determine in him certain traitsworth mentioning for those who are interested in his future. True, when ayoung man has a fine person, no eccentricity of manners, the education ofa gentleman, and a present income, it is not customary to feel a pryingcuriosity about his way of thinking, or his peculiar tastes. He may verywell be settled in life as an agreeable clever young fellow withoutpassing a special examination on those heads. Later, when he is gettingrather slovenly and portly, his peculiarities are more distinctlydiscerned, and it is taken as a mercy if they are not highlyobjectionable. But any one wishing to understand the effect of after-events on Deronda should know a little more of what he was at five-and-twenty than was evident in ordinary intercourse.


Something like this was the common under-current in Deronda's mind whilehe was reading law or imperfectly attending to polite conversation.Meanwhile he had not set about one function in particular with zeal andsteadiness. Not an admirable experience, to be proposed as an ideal; but aform of struggle before break of day which some young men since thepatriarch have had to pass through, with more or less of bruising if notlaming.


It was the year 1939, the month of September, the Jewish High Holiday season. As a young girl of eighteen who had lived in Poland my whole life, I began to sense that a great change was upon all of us, a change for the worse. I had been a happy and popular school girl with lots of Polish friends, even boyfriends, and my life had been filled with wonderful and exhilarating activities like dancing and mountain climbing. But lately things were a bit different. One day I was loved and given hugs by my friends and the next day I might be shunned. I didn't understand it and I often felt hurt. Slowly it dawned on me that it was because I was Jewish...


No one can ever really prepare for death. And no one knows when her time or the time of a loved one will come. I certainly wasn't prepared for what was to follow: my mother, at the young age of fiftytwo, was murdered. The day was rainy day but my mother went as usual to the cemetery to pray. Coming back from work I noticed the Gestapo herding some women and children near the cemetery. I took side streets home. I bolted in the door and asked where mother was. When my sister told me she was at the cemetery, I ran out without even closing the door. I raced to where I had seen the women and children rounded up under a bridge, screaming for my mother the whole way. Thousands and thousands of Jews, mainly elderly ones, were there now. They were being beaten and collected in a cellar. I was sure I heard my mother screaming and desperately tried to get into the cellar too. But the soldiers wouldn't let me. One screamed at me to run, but I refused. He shook me and ordered me to run-and I finally did, but I could still hear my mother's voice as I ran home. It is so horrible not to be able to help your loved ones. Words cannot describe the grief I felt.


I traveled through the forest eating leaves and drinking from a stream, always hungry and cold, not knowing where I was going. Eventually I met up with a group of partisans in the underground in Poland, people infiltrating Nazi organizations, Poles, Jews and others working in secret units to smuggle out information about the Nazi Third Reich. We had no reliable source of information about what was going on around us, only what the Nazis wanted us to believe was happening. Correct information was almost impossible to obtain; anyone caught listening to news coming in from Western Europe or from the rest of the world could be executed. The underground helped piece together vital information that could warn Jews and others about pending raids or help secure hiding places or perhaps help create safe travel documents. I received secret instructions, which were not to be told at any cost, and waited to help the group. I was right for the role: I looked young and innocent-not at all like a "secret agent." My new name was Maria Kvasigroch. At last I had a purpose.


Natasha stared at the small gem. It glimmered in the firelight like a sunset phenomenon. She could convince herself that she could see hundreds of souls coiled tightly under its sheen, but all she could feel was that they had given up everything for just another blood diamond. 041b061a72


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