www.dailymail.co.uk

Here's a news report from TMU News, April 20, 2009

Killer Snail Kills German Reseacher

Suluwasi Indonesia

Today the body of Hans Feinkelstien of the Invert Research Foundation was found in a remote location of Suluwasi Indonesia by a local fish collector. Hans has been missing for 10 days when he failed to return from a scientific study of Anentome Helena or commonly called the Assassin Snail in the aquarium hobby.

His body was discovered in a quiet pool near the Faketun River where Hans had been conducting his field studies. According to reports there was little left of Hans but that the entire body was covered by Anentome Helena. The Medical examiner that examined the body has determined that Hans was attacked and killed by the Anentome Helena. “All indications are that the snails he had collected were the cause of his death. We have found evidence to indicate that Hans was first attacked by the snails he had collected and then fell into the river as he struggled for his life.” stated the state medical examiner who examined the body.

“This is why we need tighter restrictions of importation of species into the United States” screamed the senator from Guam when she heard the news. “I will get this bill through even if the science behind it is based on the same science the global warming scientist use. I mean how long before a Anentome Helena attacks and kills a child why they are cleaning their Spongebob Fish Tank.”

There have been reports of Anentome Helena attacking and killing dwarf shrimp and according to researchers it would not be that big of a jump to assume that larger animals are on the menu. Anentome Helena has not been really studied in depth and the death of Hans has set back all information on this species by years since all his notes were lost when his notebook fell into the water with him.

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5 A DAY FRUIT & VEGETABLE PORTIONS

Small-sized fresh fruit

One portion is two or more small fruit, for example two plums, two satsumas, two kiwi fruit, three apricots, six lychees, seven strawberries or 14 cherries.

Medium-sized fresh fruit

One portion is one piece of fruit, such as one apple, banana, pear, orange or nectarine.

Large fresh fruit

One portion is half a grapefruit, one slice of papaya, one slice of melon (5cm slice), one large slice of pineapple or two slices of mango (5cm slices).

Dried fruit

A portion of dried fruit is around 30g. This is about one heaped tablespoon of raisins, currants or sultanas, one tablespoon of mixed fruit, two figs, three prunes or one handful of dried banana chips.

Tinned fruit in natural juice

One portion is roughly the same quantity of fruit that you would eat for a fresh portion, such as two pear or peach halves, six apricot halves or eight segments of tinned grapefruit.

Green vegetables

Two broccoli spears or four heaped tablespoons of cooked kale, spinach, spring greens or green beans count as one portion.

Cooked vegetables

Three heaped tablespoons of cooked vegetables, such as carrots, peas or sweetcorn, or eight cauliflower florets count as one portion.

Salad vegetables

Three sticks of celery, a 5cm piece of cucumber, one medium tomato or seven cherry tomatoes count as one portion.

Tinned and frozen vegetables

Roughly the same quantity as you would eat for a fresh portion. For example, three heaped tablespoons of tinned or frozen carrots, peas or sweetcorn count as one portion each. Choose those canned in water, with no added salt or sugar.

Pulses and beans

Three heaped tablespoons of baked beans, haricot beans, kidney beans, cannellini beans, butter beans or chickpeas count as one portion each. Remember, however much you eat, beans and pulses count as a maximum of one portion a day.

Potatoes

Potatoes don't count towards your 5 A DAY. This is the same for yams, cassava and plantain too. They are classified nutritionally as a starchy food, because when eaten as part of a meal they are usually used in place of other sources of starch, such as bread, rice or pasta. Although they don't count towards your 5 A DAY, potatoes do play an important role in your diet as a starchy food.

5 A DAY and ready-made foods

Fruit and vegetables contained in shop-bought ready-made foods can also count toward your 5 A DAY.

Always read the label. Some ready-made foods contain high levels of fat, salt and sugar, so only have them occasionally or in small amounts as part of a healthy balanced diet.

Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.

1. He played the hero in countless war films but never served in the military himself - he got an exemption during World War II.

2. His breakthrough role was in Stagecoach in 1939 but he did not win an Academy Award until 1970 for his performance in True Grit. He was previously nominated twice - for best actor in 1949's Sands of Iwo Jima and best picture for 1960's The Alamo, which he directed and produced

3. Wayne played American football while at the University of Southern California until he injured himself bodysurfing in Newport Beach and had to abandon his athletic career

4. For years he lived in Newport Beach where he kept his yacht Wild Goose, a former minesweeper, which is stilled moored there

5. Republican-voting Dennis Hopper, who starred in two films with John Wayne, said he was not Right-wing enough for the Duke, who called him "the Commie". "He would say, "Where's the in-house Commie?" said Hopper.

6. Wayne reportedly converted to Roman Catholicism on his deathbed

7. He wore 4in lifts in his shoes, a toupee and had an eye lift in the 1960s

8. According to Garry Wills, who wrote John Wayne's America: The Politics of Celebrity, Wayne did not actually like horses and only would ride while filming

9. His first job in the industry was working as a prop man at the Fox Film Corporation for $75 a week

10. A heavy smoker - up to five or six packets a day - Wayne was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1964 and underwent extensive surgery.

www.hse.gov.uk

An internal aperture opened with a rumble and crack. Hot wind stung her cheeks and hinted at danger. A sucking sensation dragged at her mind, and then her consciousness hurtled along the churning, twisting tunnel.

Red and gray pulsed on the outer perimeter. Liliha's stomach tightened. No turning away. Be strong.

* * *

Without a body, ethereal as a spirit, I surrender to the freedom of the void between locations. My intuition rages amongst flashes and whirring sounds.

While the cloud which obscures my sight lifts in patches, I brace to confront whatever task faces me. I float in the air with no sensation of movement, like a passenger in a hot-air balloon.

In a sudden rush, I'm sucked below--akin to plunging down the steep incline of a roller-coaster without the stomach contraction.

My psyche penetrates a roof, in a similar way to someone disregarding the atoms of glass so they can see. Inside a room, toys catch my sight, and then two youngsters. A baby sleeps in a cot.

My movement and sight are constricted by the confines of a stranger's body. Now, I've merged with a person and see through her eyes. The hands gripping a letter are delicate with almond-shaped fingernails. She nods to herself at the doctor's appointment time. I note her name, Nasheen, and her address in Northern England.

Worry about her husband's behavior drags at her inner core. I strengthen myself to help her handle whatever problem brought me here.

But something's wrong.

I discern a third presence flooding Nasheen's mind with dark thoughts sent in waves, dragging her attitude into a spiral track. Malevolence personified in doom.

I try to work out what this means. The bracelet with the scarab decoration! Must be. The bracelet disappeared before I had the chance to take it to the Museum for safekeeping.

This malicious force appeared before when the scarab trapped my daughter, Kaelyn. Now, the power in the bracelet must be influencing someone else--in the opposite way to the ring.

What can I do? The scarab sucks any person who touches the bracelet into a moral lure which causes dark thoughts. Just as the ring gives me visions where I can correct a problem, the bracelet must be directing an unknown person to harm Nasheen. I've got to help.

I exert full force to stabilize Nasheen's mind and issue the suggestion: 'Calm and still'.

Her tempestuous beliefs override mine. 'How many women has he been with? How many extra babies has he fathered'?

The other intelligence cuts in, 'Your husband is away too often. He's having an affair'.

There it is--the manifestation of doom. Must be from the person who stole the bracelet.

Nasheen nods at Doom's suggestion.

She accepts voices as normal? I grope with sensitivity and discern positive memories. I whisper, 'Remember times when he was good to you'.

A bunch of flowers last Mother's Day flashes into her memory.

Doom whispers, 'That wasn't for you. It was for any mother'.

I prepare to contact the intelligence that battles my effort to save Nasheen.

I attempt to meld and get close to the perpetrator of the evil thoughts. When my endeavor doesn't work, I make a desperate plea. 'When you leave, you must lock the bracelet away so nobody can touch it--especially you. Then, you'll be free'.

A childish scream rips the air, dragging at my attention. The young boy snatches a doll from his sister.

I murmur to the mother, 'Love the children. They need you'.

Nasheen pacifies the girl with a kiss while she focuses on an idea. 'When my husband leaves, I'll have no money to feed them'.

Doom suggests, 'Put them out of their misery, now, before they suffer'.

'The little ones are innocent', I counter. 'Don't think that way'.

The dreadful concept takes hold inside Nasheen. They'll be unprotected without her husband. When she sighs, I experience it as my own released breath.

I'm aghast. "Wait until you've spoken to him. This may never happen'.

'He'll lie to you', Doom quips. 'Don't waste your time'.

I urge rethinking, but Nasheen, with me confined within her, wanders to the kitchen. We approach the work surface cluttered with pans and implements. A knife glints in the light.

She thinks, 'I've got to save us all from a life of poverty'.

'If he leaves', I counter, 'you will be looked after. Nobody would let you starve. Don't do this dreadful thing'.

We rub our forehead.

Dooms voice erupts. 'The fiend is deceiving you. He'll make sure you never get help'.

I push with a thrust of energy to block off the contradictory message.

'I'll kill them quickly', Nasheen reasons. 'They don't have to suffer'. Despite my wishes, our hand reaches for the weapon.

'Don't do this wicked thing. The little ones are innocent'. Nasheen must be locked in the grip of depressive illness. I use every ounce of intensity to bombard her with a powerful flow of calm to prevent her from taking action.

'Whoever you are', I urge the unlucky person trapped by the influence of Doom, 'try to block off these shocking urges. Do you really want this woman to kill her children? Could you live with yourself if she carries out your suggestion?'

I whisper to her with force, 'Put the knife down'.

Despite my effort, we carry the weapon into the children's room. Our dull stare lingers on each child.

The strength of purpose in Doom fluctuates in the manner of a flickering light.

I shout, 'Stop'! I must reach her.

I grope toward the inner voice that suggests murder. 'An evil force holds you captive. Join with me. We can fight together'.

The children, eyes open wide, lean away.

I am stunned. 'No. No'.

With a great effort of will toward Doom, I concentrate on one last push. 'She's going to kill her children. You must withdraw before it's too late. Join with me. My strength will aid you'.

Doom wavers, and then relaxes the malevolent hold.

I surge in and control Nasheen's thoughts. 'Take the knife back to the kitchen. Smile at the little ones. They're scared'.

In a daze, she complies.

I grasp Doom's essence. 'Hold on. Try to relax. Think of a good time--a place where you were happy. If you switch your thoughts, you should repel the invasion'.

A high moan escapes our swollen lips. "I'll kill myself'.

'Wait'. Compassion and sorrow ooze from me. 'No killing. You're sick. Let someone help you. Call the emergency services'.

'I deserve to suffer'. Her hands shake as she opens the cupboard beneath the sink.

I send a stronger message, using strength I didn't know I possessed. 'Pick up the phone and ... call ... for ... help'.

We struggle to our feet with a closed fist. One hand reaches for a glass before she grips and turns the tap.

When she grasps an open packet of rat pellets, I shriek into her mind, 'No'!

She fills our mouth with the poison and gulps the water.

The presence withdraws. Doom has left.

Numb yet retaining the prompt of an emergency call, we reach for the phone, wait for the operator to answer, and then speak in a dull tone. "I want to die." Our slurred voice slows. "I've taken poison."

The phone crashes to the floor.

With an intense thirst, we fill the glass again. Our hands quiver while we lift it, gulp the contents, and then slump.

I sooth with words of comfort and love, in an effort to combat the searing pain.

Nasheen's sick and twisted, warped by illness, but not evil.

The ambulance arrives with a clamor of sirens.

Released from the meld with my contact, I lift off, sending compassionate concepts to the attendants.

* * *

Perfume. Flashing colors. Seated in the train after her tumbling return, stuffy air and muffled talk grounded Liliha. She leant forward over the table to ease her spine. Nobody paid her any attention.

guardianlv.com

www.telegraph.co.uk

Journal of Tallulah McBride

March 23, 2027

As the world ends, I’ve assembled my vellum and proper ink and pen. Vellum lasts longer than paper. I don’t think anyone will survive the flood and devastation. The water is rising higher all the time and I haven’t seen the sun for forty-eight hours. No light penetrates my room. I’m writing by candlelight. I’m not sure why I’m writing, except that it might help me get a grip on what happened. And just maybe, someone will survive and read this journal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Corn World. Britland. Far in the future after the great flood.

Chapter One

On the bed next to her mother, Cerridwen snuggled further into her sleeping furs. Wind roared over the town. Rain lashed against the thick wooden walls of the house nestled halfway down a steep slope above the quiet village. Built in the before-times, when men knew how to construct things properly, the house resisted continual rain. A lightning flash lit up the small room. Thunder roared. In the cot beside her, Mother whimpered and turned in her sleep.