 Action/Adventure: February 15, 2017 Issue [#8136] |
  Action/Adventure
This week: Let's Go Doodlebugging! Edited by: Leger~  
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This week's Action / Adventure Editor
Leger~
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Let's Go Doodlebugging
Moving onward with my exploration of occult topics, I ran into dowsing...which is the art of divination. A person gets a branch, or rod (sometimes merely their mind) and walks around a property water-witching for ground water. Usually. Or so I thought. But it also refers to looking for metal ore, oil, gemstones or even gravesites. While I read references and quotes going back to the 1600's about diving rods, I clearly remember my grandfather using a forked branch to locate the place the well for their cabin would be dug. Being a child, I thought it was a common thing to do and never gave it much thought.
In the South of France in the 17th century it was used in tracking criminals and heretics. Its abuse led to a decree of the inquisition in 1701, forbidding its employment for purposes of justice. In reading further, much of dowsing is attributed to the ideomotor phenomenom. Ideomotor phenomenon is a psychological phenomenon wherein a subject makes motions unconsciously. Think Ouiji boards and freaking your friends out on an epic scale. The things your unconscious mind will do is so amazing.
Oh and want to go doodlebugging? It's a term for using divination for oil in the U.S. If not, stay inspired and Write On!
This month's question: Do you remember the elders of your family using old methods like dowsing?
Have you worked that in your writing?
Answer below  Editors love feedback! 
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#2074453 by Not Available. |
Excerpt: Nothing of man—nor man-made could cobble together all the elements of this exquisite exhibition of natural perfection that beckoned not only the young women but also thousands of other inhabitants of the City to take a free day; a mental health day; a ‘sick’ day—any breed—of day off, to luxuriate in the boughs of nature’s bounty.
Excerpt: “I’ve got a family!” he spat. “I’ve got responsibilities! What do you have?”
Excerpt: By the time they arrived at the attic ladder, the water was up to Rita's thighs. Rita and Howard both had a child in their arms. Howard with a look of sheer determination climbed rapidly up the ladder and deposited his child into the attic. He came half-way back down and grabbed the child Rita had in her arms and took the child on up the ladder, looking back to make sure Rita was okay. The water lapped up to the fourth step of the ladder. The ocean was engulfing their home. Thank the Lord they didn't have any pets.
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Excerpt: We both sped back faster than a rabbit dashes from a hunter. We didn't know much about these animals, but with a few tusks pointing at us, along with many white teeth, we weren't about to learn if they would inflict fatal harm. Bobby beat me back to the vehicle but was especially jittery, so I promised, if we could find a local hotel, I would pay for the three nights of our trip.
Excerpt: Miriam moved further and further into the lake, each step leaving behind a glowing trail; points of light where her footsteps had been fading slowly back to match the water's glistening surface. As the water moved above her waist a blinding flash of light spread out to the farthest reaches of the water's edge. As the light dimmed, an awareness of some transformation left her confused. She sunk back to lift her foot above the waterline and was alarmed at first that her foot was replaced with a fin.
Excerpt: Now, instead of seeing the one initial leak, water is spewing from two opposite pipes! Closing the door, I creep quietly away.
After a spew of explicit curse words coming from below, I wait patiently as to what I feel is the appropriate amount of time. Then like a ballet dancer on tip-toes, I sneak toward the basement door. Holding my breath, I brave one more look. My husband is now wading through a pool of water, a look of indignation upon his face.
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Excerpt: A shrill ring popped my dream. I cracked one eye open. Grey light filtered in. Couldn’t even be eight yet. Another shrill called me to the phone. Reaching for it, I squinted at call display. An in house call. The clock registered just after seven. It’s the weekend. Couldn’t be someone to see us at this hour.
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Excerpt: Nereida was an orphan. No one knew where she had come from. She had been found on the doorstep of an orphanage further inland as a baby, wrapped in a simple gray cloak with her name written on a white tag pinned to the garment. As she grew up, she passed from one orphanage to the next. She had no friends, although she was by no means unfriendly. None of the other orphans could ever seem to understand her. When she spoke, it was in a soft, liquid voice. She had no interest in pretty toys or games, and spent most of her time sitting alone, staring into space.
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This month's question: Do you remember the elders of your family using old methods like dowsing?
Have you worked that in your writing?
Answer below Editors love feedback!
Last month's question: Have you explored the paranormal? How did you use that in your writing?
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