richardmurray

URL https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/art/Countdown-to-Fearlessness-1374170102 CONTENT TITLE: Countdown to Fearlessness SUBTITLE: A Marcus Preacher tale AUTHOR: Richard Murray @HDdeviant STORY Each individual has felt a fear. A boogeyman in the room when the parents cut off the light. A bad fall in the old house after the great grandkids left, or before they return. A daily bully waiting on the target's route home. Fears come in many forms, but one of the most dangerous fears is fear of the truth. No physical assault or failure. No chiaroscuro induced imaginings. Simple realities that can be unaccepted while never made false; athletes know them when they speak on their careers; government officials know them when they speak to their constituents; parents know them when they explain the way of the world to their children. But sometimes simple realities need the spark of evidence, revelations, to escape the allowance of falsehood through the absence of proof, denial. All I knew was Mavis Jones died while I drove to his burial; a simple reality that many would attend at Nieufundland Cemetery. I remember when Mavis solved the Three Kings case. Police chief Baron Williams, mob boss Tony Angelo, telecommunications giant Teddy Round, united to take over the city. The police chief had info on all the government officials and agencies, from the mayor to community board members. The mob boss had the enforcement to those who needed to go along with the plan but didn't have any dirt. The media mogul had made a daring bid to buy nine movie studios, three domestic, six foreign, three domestic network studios, and four streaming services; he was going to increase the jobs in the media market of the city by a thousand percent, changing the fortunes of the city. The police chief would gain tons of jobs for the police as well as a private fund. the mob would get control of the casting and full access to entertainers. The three needed a number of communities to move out quickly and with little fuss. But that was where Mavis came in; his grandmother was in one of those communities the Three Kings were looking to push out; he dug and nearly got killed and dug and nearly got killed and again and again. In the end, only a few knew he made a deal with the mayor, mob boss Salvadore Sam and real estate giant Cocoro Stein, which undid the plans of the Three Kings by making three other kings. Mavis only protected the communities and the Three Kings all died in various ways. The police chief retired. The mob boss was killed; his family left the country. The media mogul sold his firm and assets, paid debts and lives as a rich recluse. Mavis was a great detective; for him to die in a car accident, while sad, isn't unheard of in the city. At the burial, I saw his parents, relatives, or sister with his ten year old son Solomon. Solomon's mom was a lady of the night, the only woman Mavis trusted plus liked, Zora Takata; she was born from a black soldier and Japanese woman during a war; she was ever stylish, dangerous with a blade, athletically amazing, a cute shortness, thief, model; I told Mavis she was his Milady de Winter; if she was alive, I ponder. But among those I know of, or those who make sense, one stood out. During the silence or speeches, before the placing, I positioned next to the standout. A woman tall, olive skin, brunette, a gold silk Christian Dior, collared, long sleeve, ankle high, skirt suit with dark blue gloves, and low heel shoes with diamond adornments; her hat was a white pill box completely covered in yellow diamonds, the goddess of sun and sea. My green grey tailored tweed three piece suit under my black coat and above my black and white oxfords and under my pastel beret, was not as outstanding but didn't get anyone's notice either. She seemed the kind of woman Mavis would know. When the body was buried I used my friendship as a conversational starter. She turned and in one movement noted me, looked away, and began walking. No luck, so I went over to Solomon; like most children, he isn't ready for death, even though this is his second; I asked him would chocolate like to eat chocolate; he smiled and I went with him and his aunt to get ice cream. While Solomon was playing an arcade game I asked Tabitha what happened; she looked at me knowing what I really wanted; I told her plain, her brother had enemies. I didn't deny the car crash, I just wanted more certainty. Tabitha admitted Mavis told her to only tell me, if I asked, the following. "Kid this may get you killed, but if you want to risk it, follow the gold dress" I knew instantly I was right before, and was angry I didn't follow her. I asked Tabitha, if she knew anything about her; she said Mavis called her Emma; I asked her if she still had the key to his office, his house, and his safe; she said yes to all three. I promised to give them back and Tabitha trusted me. I first went to Mavis's office. As I figured, nothing on any ongoing case; his house wouldn't have much but I was one of the few, Zora being the other, who knew about the pseudo board under the couch in the living room; I opened it and I heard the front door being opened. I saw contents in the box but left it and pushed the couch back, placed the keys in my mouth, and acted as if I was running to get out the window. Two men entered the room, both wearing white shirts, black pants, and black jackets. The tall one assumed they caught me and said, we know you went to find something Mister Preacher. I said, glaring strongly, but with a small mouth movement, who are you? The short one replied, "you don't need to know, just know national security is involved." The big one checked me, found nothing. I realized this was big, federal agents, clearly with allot of immunity or protection; they wanted something Mavis had; they wanted it badly enough to kill. And I asked carefully, did you kill Mavis? The agents did not answer and left. I ran to the door and braced it with furniture. I covered the windows throughout the house, and went back to the couch. I spat out Mavis's keys and opened the pseudo board. I saw inside papers. I went into the bathroom, used my camera, and took photos. I saw a photo of Emma which Mavis labeled Emma Dash. I saw a letter from a colonel named Doug Williams. Williams said a woman he called Anna Lee, stole his of the poisoning of Wells County Michigan. I saw an obituary for Williams. Mavis was the kind of detective who would dig and dig, but if the government is involved, a limit exist to how deep one can dig and still live in the United States of America. I placed the papers back into the pseudo board and called Tabitha to set me up with a blind date, at her brother's house. After two hours, Ramona knocked on the door. I opened happily and as I guessed a black car was outside Mavis's door with two figures inside. I welcomed Ramona in. Ramona was quite short, but didn't seem disturbed by my height; I welcomed her in for a cup of coffee and told her we can leave to a diner whenever she is ready; she accepted the coffee and I was glad, made my two friends outside sweat a little. Ramona Sanchez was sweet, cinnamon colored from Cuajinicuilapa in Costa Chica Mexico; she told me, she wanted to be a secretary, and loves organizing; her burgundy circle skirt and orange short sleeve shirt with blue shawl worked perfectly for an evening out. After the coffee, we left, and I saw my old friends still sitting. I took Ramona to the Alhambra restaurant; they serve the best seafood in the city. I made sure we got a table away from the window, on the second floor. I asked Mavis's old friend Tom, the manager of the restaurant, to let Ramona sit until I came back. Tom agreed and I promised Ramona something special when I returned. I exited out the back and saw my two formerly sitting friends in the alley's shadows. I evaded them and went to the post office, two blocks away from Alhambra. I entered Mavis's safe and I saw: newspaper clippings, murders of various soldiers, a copy of a letter about a theft from Langley or others, a pamphlet for the time capsule of Harriet Tubman elementary school in Fayette Mississippi. The time capsule was already put into the ground. And, I realized the problem. I took photos of all the content and closed the post office box with all but one from the content I found in it. I ran out and saw the all night florist shop was still in business and bought an orchard. I ran back to Alhambra and entered the front holding Ramona's flowers. Tom told me a woman was sitting next to my table and talking with my guest. I asked is the woman in a gold dress?? He nodded and I asked him to hold my camera. I scurried upstairs followed by my two old friends through the front door. I saw Emma speaking to Ramona. I surprised Ramona, snuck up behind her. Emma saw me hand my date the orchid. Ramona loved it. I sat and asked Emma if her friends wanted to join her. My two old friends exited down the stairs when they saw Emma with me and Ramona. Emma looked at Ramona and said, 'please Ms. Sanchez give us a moment.' Ramona replied, yes ma'am. Ramona exited militarily, in all but the snap. I worried and looked to Emma and said, "The real Ramona?" Emma replied to me. "Safe at home Mister Preacher, she will have a little headache in the morning but no problems" "So now" "Now you will tell me what you learned" "I haven't learned anything" "Mister Preacher, please, we found the compartment under the couch after you left" I didn't react when she said it and answered: "I didn't find anything in the house but was disturbed by my two friends. Pardon the blinds, but you comprehend" Emma smiled: "and what took you so long to come back, the flower shop is not that far" I was ready for that. "I scouted my friends. I wanted to see if you would meet them" "Mr. Preacher, you will be observed for the foreseeable future, some advice, don't dig any further" "Did you kill Mavis?" Emma stood over me like a god. "No Mister Preacher, he died in an accident" And Emma left. I waited to see if Ramona returned from the bathroom. After fifteen minutes, yes I liked the fantasy, she didn't and I left. I got Tom to give me my camera and I rode to Tabitha's. In the darkness of the city, I realized the truth. Mavis knew a truth and killed himself to keep it secret. A secret involving information on agents of the U.S.A., their identities, their activities, and I realized why Emma and company were tasked to eliminate the exposure of the truth. Can you imagine if people knew what their parents, uncles, pastors, schoolteachers did? In the world of secrets are many names, many people, who have done many things. But if all those secrets, all those truths, were known, no longer allowed a lie by the absence of proof. What would happen? I saw the paper of Harriet Tubman, from my mouth, in my hand and burned it in the car. I will place the camera in my own safe. I will follow Mavis's lead and let the hundred years arrive. I wish I can be there when all the truths come out. CHARACTER LIST Marcus Preacher- narrator, investigative reporter for Renaissance News Mavis Jones| Detective [ Tumblr is @chiefwinnernacho ] Ms. Emma Dash | Femme Fatale [ Tumblr is @106degrees ] Doctor Williams- friend of Marcus Preacher Santos- female reporter for entertainment news, Renaissance News Baron Williams- Police chief Tony Angelo- mob boss Teddy Round- telecommunications giant Zora Takata- Love interest of Mavic Jones deceased Salvadore Sam- mob boss Cocoro Stein- real estate giant Solomon- son of Mavis Jones and Zora Takata Tabitha- sister of Mavis Jones Doug Williams- deceased colonel Ramona Film Noir Pigeon members in the story Mavis is @chiefwinnernacho Mavis Jones| Detective [ film noir pigeons tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/communities/filmnoirpigeons] [user tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/chiefwinnernacho ] Emma is @106degrees Ms. Emma Dash | Femme Fatale [ film noir pigeons tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/communities/filmnoirpigeons] [user tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/106degrees ] Gallery of Literature https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/gallery/81311721/my-tales-or-poetry If you are a fan of crime fiction or film noir consider joining the following group https://www.tumblr.com/communities/filmnoirpigeons Tip me if you like my stories https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/tier/Tip-Jar-to-HDdeviant-902770076 Marcus Preacher Stories https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/gallery/103257473/marcus-preacher Notes: Neiufundland is new found land Milady de Winter- a female antagonist in the book " The Three Musketeers" by Alexander Dumas. Wife of Athos. #black337 #detective #reporter #hddeviant #richardmurray #richardmurrayhumblr #filmnoir #filmnoirpigeons #crimedrama #crliterature #FBI #CIA #timecapsule #fear

URL https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/art/Calling-In-A-Debt-1374169364 CONTENT TITLE: Calling In A Debt SUBTITLE: A Marcus Preacher tale AUTHOR: Richard Murray @HDdeviant STORY All things that were born owe a debt. A building owes its financier plus architect. A human owes its biological parents. A computer program owes its programmer. Some debts are called in; some are not. Some parents call in their debt by pushing their children into what said parents wish they were. Some parents feel the debt is paid by the child's first breath and they joy of watching them grow, no matter the fate. A building or computer program's life equals their function or the payment they are due. Investigative reporters... owe many; our only payment is a story but our need is the infinite number of truths held by humans in themselves or various devices. Truths of such value or quantity, we can never have enough money to pay for our power to protect from the unknown negatives in the future of the truthteller, consequence. But what happens when you owe someone a debt you can't pay? I didn't know the answer to said question driving to a reading of Rex Pietra, internationally known poet; his birth name is Rinaldo; he had no criminal record, not even a parking ticket; he wasn't married but all his girlfriends, in the various regions where humans lived, vouched for his character; yet, none of that explained why one person attending each of his poetry readings, in the current tour, has gone missing. The internet hash tagged it #RPPSK, some pronounce it "rip piss", but it stands for Rex Pietra Poetry Serial Killer. Some have tried to record the readings or follow the attendees, or follow themselves after being at the reading. But none of the missing were recorded at the time they were last seen. I drove five blocks from Imperium Tavern and walked to the mad scene. International news networks, online influencers, betting app pundits, and other media folk, were all settled, their cars on the Tavern's block, their bodies plus teams taking up the outdoor sitting area for the Tavern. Inside was a packed house, so that the barmaid couldn't bring the beer, so that only those at the bar could get drinks. The police had a barricade for viewers outside, repeatedly telling them to go home, for their own safety. I got by the police with my freedom of the press badge and overhear media folk talk about the witnesses to the reading, while none of them enter the Tavern to hear. The last two murders were not listeners, who are all recording themselves but media folk who didn't record themselves, and went missing. I realized this was my chance. At the door I mentioned I am a friend of K. The doorman asked me for a password. I replied: "Amen for three." I was let in, and the luck of having my old school mate Kirby Hooper as the bartender today is a debt I probably will not be able to repay. After I squeezed through folk, I went to the bar and sat down. I waited till K noticed me, and we each gave the gesture only we would comprehend. I listened to Pietra while I waited. "Next, I will read the sonnet, The Stone In Me... When did my blood cure my soul When a child, maldict upon When a teen, wish for no toll When a man, want to be done When can my curse change its goal When fate rupt through as swift bon When merit fill my ow'd role When time exhaust all eon When will you know, why you soon When you face an equus rule When one witness is the moon When no recite from a tool When you heard this private boon When your stone side nature duel " And people clapped, and Pietra spoke more and more people clapped. Finally, the reading was done. All the attendees inside left while streaming. One of the media people wanted to interview me. She asked if I will keep some sort of recording device on me, as I am the only person who witnessed the reading that didn't have a livestream feed. I told them I wanted to find the killer for Renaissance News. And, I left to speak to K. I noticed K had cameras about the bar, and I thanked him for helping me get in; he warned me not to go find the kidnapper; I told him someone has to. Everyone knew one viewer disappears off camera after hearing a reading. Pietra had already given interviews stating he didn't know what happened. But luckily for me, another person I owe, Doctor Williams, was asked to look at the forensic evidence by the Federal Bureau of Investigation [ F.B.I.]; she told me, the only thing the federal investigation had for a clue was a particular dust appeared at each site; she thought from the photos it must be stone, crushed into a dust; but on observation in a lab, she realized the dust came from petrification; her evidence was a lack thereof. The dust had the composition of petrified remains through the process of replacement alone, which unlike when permineralization is more present, has little to none of the original specimen. Without any biological proof in the dust or the ability to recreate the petrified structure, the case was cold. Williams told me her theory is that whatever is acting petrifies the individuals in a process using only replacement that completes in at most a minute, based on the time individuals have gone missing coupled with the time needed to completely crush the petrified into dust; I asked her, does she have any ideas of what could cause this to happen; she replied, Medusa's head atop a road roller. I knew the legend of Medusa, the guardian, and I knew, in reaction, what I had to do. I thanked K and left him in Imperium Tavern, while I had a live stream of me on myself. The one viewer, whomever they were, kept me safe. I prepared my mirror and drove to an empty lot. I exited the car with my camera and prepared to end the livestream. I had no idea what to expect, but figured to not look through anything but the mirror. I cut off the live stream. Instantly, I heard hoofs on concrete. I turned to get my mirror reflecting the direction the hoof sounds came from. The sounds got louder and louder, too quick for me to position the camera or think of a question to ask. It was right on me, and I jumped hard wide, with my eyes closed. I knew I needed to get a live feed or a phone call. But even before that, I needed to stay clear of the horseman. I dodged it and it turned to run at me again, and again. I saw in the mirror fragments of a single form. I realized later is a female centaur with long hair the texture of a horse mane, bare breasted, a long apron tied at the waist of her human torso. I started to fatigue, and fell down on a side, with not enough speed to evade. And the phone rang; I was too busy trying to hear hoof steps and let it ring a number of times. Eventually I picked up the phone and it was Santos; she told me I had asked her to call at ten forty-seven p.m. In my fear of fatigue, I forgot; I owe her; I thanked her and asked her to stay on the phone till I start another live stream; she did and i told her I owed her another; she said she will collect but she needed sleep for Miguel Flanagan is returning to the show "Alto Savana" and she has an early morning interview. We bid each other well and I went to my hotel. No photo, no video, no security camera recording. My memory recall a medusa, a guardian, whose mirror image I only saw, while I dodged her houses. The next day, I listened for the news, none of the viewers died. I called Williams and she told me, the F.B.I. have not contacted her about any new occurrences of dust; I told her what only my memory recorded; she said it explains the dusty remains of the petrification explaining: after the individuals saw the creature, it trampled on them; I comprehended her logic but I didn't comprehend what was being guarded. The Doctor had no idea of what could be guarded but only Pietra would know. I stayed in the hotel for five days and twelve hours and fifteen minutes with the live stream on, when news media reported Katy Morcegos, who viewed the Pietra reading I did, had gone missing. I had my mirror ready and cut off my live stream. And nothing, no hooves or sounds. I wasn't fully convinced and went into the garage, and I recognized the camera. Then I drove aside the highway, on the way home. I stayed till the dark, when no cars were about. The trees echoed sounds of life amidst them. I finally accepted I owed another, Katy Morcegos, and like so many debts I wouldn't be able to repay. A month passed and others went missing who saw Pietra read. I published my story and my suspicions that a gorgon was behind it all; I can't say how many read it, but no emails or letters came in about it. Six months after Pietra had his last reading of the deadly tour, he said he was going away. I don't know what happened, but a month after, Pietra went missing. I asked the doctor if she found any dust and she said no. But if the legends are true and gorgons are immortal. Then whatever Pietra owed them would have to be collected someday. CHARACTER LIST Marcus Preacher- narrator, investigative reporter for Renaissance News Rex Pietra- author Kirby “K” Hooper | Barkeep [ Tumblr is @homesickhalfling] Doctor Williams- friend of Marcus Preacher Santos- female reporter for entertainment news, Renaissance News Inspired by Sonnets of Pride from @DrThomasStockmann in @CRLiterature https://www.deviantart.com/drthomasstockmann/journal/June-Badge-Challenge-Sonnets-of-Pride-1337292701 June Badge Challenge: Sonnets of PrideJun 1, 2026 Happy Pride Month, people of CRLiterature! Pride Film Noir Pigeon members in the story K is @homesickhalfling Kirby “K” Hooper | Barkeep in @filmnoirpigeons [ film noir pigeons tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/communities/filmnoirpigeons] [user tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/homesickhalfling ] partially inspired by Sonnets of Pride from @DrThomasStockmann in @CRLiterature https://www.deviantart.com/drthomasstockmann/journal/June-Badge-Challenge-Sonnets-of-Pride-1337292701 Gallery of Literature https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/gallery/81311721/my-tales-or-poetry If you are a fan of crime fiction or film noir consider joining the following group https://www.tumblr.com/communities/filmnoirpigeons Tip me if you like my stories https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/tier/Tip-Jar-to-HDdeviant-902770076 Marcus Preacher Stories https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/gallery/103257473/marcus-preacher Notes: Delirium Cafe, in brussels, has largest beer selection in the world Medusa- earliest visual eference [ https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/world-records/780321-earliest-depiction-of-a-gorgon ] in the louvre [ https://collections.louvre.fr/en/ark:/53355/cl010263963 ] is a half human half horse creature, who has the eyes that can turn to stone, but no snakes for hair or snake body. Road Roller - places aggregate for concrete word list maldict- bad word curse- a prayer, a course of path don - mean leader rupt- break owed- ow'd exhaust- draw out equus- horse witness- being of wit, knowledge recite- say again boon- prayer #black337 #detective #reporter #hddeviant #richardmurray #richardmurrayhumblr #filmnoir #filmnoirpigeons #crimedrama #crliterature #sonnet #medusa #gorgon #media #debt

URL https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/art/Lucid-Icelos-1374163688 CONTENT TITLE: Lucid Icelos SUBTITLE: A Marcus Preacher tale AUTHOR: Richard Murray @HDdeviant STORY From a little plant on a windowsill, through a neighborhood garden that was an abandoned lot, to a manicured park providing fresh air for an entire metropolis, the value of green spaces to pen cloistered urban folk has always been defined by the eternal desire for green spaces from the people who live on paved roads. The Tecumseh National Park is the green space for the entire metropolitan area, and during this holiday season families come to bar-b-q or camp or picnic, but no one came to die. And, while I drove out here to investigate, I didn't want to die either. But when you don't know the killer, can you prepare either way? The way to the crime scene wasn't hidden or puzzling; it was evident. Emergency tape about trees, sheriff plus company standing over a place where reporters, photographers, or park residents focus. The body was already taken, thus I needed to talk to the law enforcers. I knew a man died yesterday, Bob Brantley, a white male, jogging with use of one eye from glaucoma; his body was found stiff as a door nail, no scratches or wounds, but formed as if mauled. The sheriff, Jackie, told me the recently murdered was a woman named Serena Harry, Black, heavy set female, cancer survivor; like Bob, she has no marks, no evidence of an assailant about, and was found as if mauled. I left to the hospital, in the nearest town, to see if I could learn more and I saw Salazar exiting; so, I had no chance of first photos. I went in, and Doctor Nichols obliged me, though I can tell he was fatigued of the law plus media. Mrs. Harry had no marks, nothing to suggest other than she was scared to death, around 2:30 am, this morning past. A hotel was between the town and the national park, and I checked in. Two bodies, both unharmed except for whatever murdered them, each in a different section of the park. I had no clues and I went to bed. The next morning, I was woken by medical vehicle horns, blasting on the road, to the park. I quickly, while quite smelly, went to the park. It was a repeat of yesterday. Salazar with the first photos, a dead body in a unique spot of a national park, and me with no clue who did it or no evidence to figure it out. I looked about, where the body of the currently unknown was taken. And like yesterday, nothing. No treadway in the park, no residue of blood, no foreign element discovered by various electromagnetic scanners. But, away from the scene, I spotted a small device, a camera. While I was lost in how to access this camera, a deputy snuck up behind me and told me to come with him and bring the camera. In sheriff Jackie's car, the sheriff was blunt with me. She placed cameras to acquire evidence. She knew each murder was hours after midnight; so, she had cameras placed along the walk path not taken since each murder was in a unique spot of the walk path. She wanted to find the killer, but she would need a trap. Someone to be out at night. I saw where she was headed and accepted on the conditions: I get to keep my photos, present them first, and get the first interview. The sheriff said yes and I asked when will she look at the tapes. She said this afternoon. I told her I want to take a shower and will meet her at her office at 1 p.m. She agreed cause I needed the shower. Back at the hotel, I washed and decided to relax at the bar. I was surprised to see Eda singing in such a place. I knew she was in recovery from the werewolf attack but figured she was home, not on the road. After a pastrami on rye and some rounds of lemonade, I was able to get Eda to signal she will meet me tonight. I headed to the sheriff's office. I got to the Sheriff's office and a deputy guided me. I noticed the Sheriff and a ranger for the park aside deputes looking at the tapes, already; they looked before I arrived. I didn't specify the time, rookie mistake Marcus. The current tape showed the unknown. The sheriff handed me a folder. Her name was Samantha Ho, long distance running coach, a Californian on vacation. Suddenly, I noticed Ms. Ho, in fright. The camera perpendicular to her path of fleeing didn't display anything but darkness she was running from, while Samantha slips, screams, trips. Another camera showed her terror as something she saw that the camera did not; it attacked her. We all watched her body move in painful writhing, until... death. It seemed Doctor Nichols was correct, three people literally scared to death by an unseen, unwitnessable, assailant. The Sheriff looked at me: "I will not accept three people died because they were afraid of the dark" The head ranger, Ted, was befuddled, but didn't seem interested in ignoring the facts. The Sheriff noticed and looked to me. I didn't click my heels, but I looked to the screen and pondered how I could outrun what a professional runner couldn't. Jackie said her team will close the park for the evening and late hours; but she needs many hands to search the park in the evening. I agreed, asking is our deal still in place, and Jackie said yes. I went back to the hotel, to prepare my cameras and hang out with Eda; I stood outside her room door when the adjacent door opened. The man at the door, in common clothes, spoke to whomever was inside and said he will get some sandwiches, and he would be back before the operation; he exited and was immediately curious in a negative way at my person. I will never deny a true reporter's nose is always open, but I wasn't prepared to lie. So, Eda opening the door was perfect timing. While Eda invited me in, the man from the next room went on his way. I asked Eda, who are her neighbors; she said the guy under her has cosplay women enter his room, she can hear the bed. The one above is a couple from Kazakhstan, from the Kazakh plain, traveling for a trip they saved decades to have. The right from the hall is the band's room. The left from the hall are doctors. I asked what kind of doctors. Eda said, dream doctors; she knew by my face I wanted more; she told me all she knew was from one of the doctors; he said they were studying lucid dreams. Lucid dreams had nothing to do with the hidden horrors in the park, so I left it alone and enjoyed the dinner. We laughed about the old werewolf case and various friends. I left Eda's and went to the meetup place at the park for the Sheriff. Me, Sheriff Jackie, Ranger Ted, plus deputies positioned ourselves variably around the gambled attack space. I had my camera ready but was far more worried about my feet. I looked about in the darkness, flashlight read for use but not on, just like in the videos, the culprit should be seen in the dark from those attacks. I waited and thought about Bob and Serena, and Samantha, will their families ever find peace with this. I heard a dog bark, an angry dog. I immediately ran to the sound, the first in an unending series. It was still dark, but I knew the path. I would wait till I used the flashlight. I heard a growl and a deputy scream. I saw in the distance a creature, somehow visible in the darkness, but I was too far to get exact details. The scream from the deputy became louder. Closer, I saw the assailant, but it was impossible; it looked like the werewolf that attacked Eda over a year ago; it couldn't be, I saw it die. More closer, I was more sure. The werewolf somehow returned. I shined a light on it, hoping to distract it away from the deputy whose struggle could only be heard. But the werewolf didn't reply; when the creature looked at me it suddenly seemed shocked and disappeared. I went to the space where I thought the deputy was and found him curled as if mauled, but without any wounds or odors, like the other three; but unlike them he had a faint heartbeat. The others approached and we took the attacked deputy to the hospital. At the Sheriff's office I saw the footage, like Bob, Serena plus Samantha, Deputy Mike was attacked by something unrecorded and now we also know unheard. But even though I knew what I saw, or others glanced or glimmered, the cause, the identity, was still elusive. But unlike the others, I had an idea where to go next. I described the werewolf I saw but I didn't tell the law the connection to Eda. When I got to the hotel, I rested but I did not sleep. Early in the morning, I went to Eda's room, with a clear set of questions and I pondered one of her neighbors; she was startled and told me to wait in the room while she finish getting ready in the bathroom; she came out and she said she planned a breakfast I could come to. A sudden knock on her door, and her breakfast partner, a dream doctor was ready in the hallway. We all greeted each other, and I texted Doctor Williams about Doctor Forten, as we walked to the cafe. Williams told me Forten is an oneirologist; he and colleagues Sampson, by description I met earlier, and Riley, I never saw before, are researching lucid dreams generating other mental phenomena exocorpo. I prompted Eda, while Forten was settling, did she have a dream about the werewolf last night; she said no but she dreamed about an angry dog, Forten was alarmed in earshot. We three had a great lunch. I had a black coffee with a slice of lemon, and a bottom crust vegetable pie with herbs. I learned that Doctor Forten ad crew were leaving soon. But what I needed was something I needed Doctor Forten alone for. Williams sent me more information, and Eda eventually left for a session aside her band. I told Doctor Forten I would walk with him upstairs. I was quick with intention or abrupt with pleasantries. I told him I knew about Wally Arbor, his patient with lucid dreams whom he and his colleagues had been training to generate oneirological incidents in others. How Mr. Arbor had a little brother killed by a vicious neighbor's dog. How Doctor Forten planned to be next to Eda and use her memory of a werewolf to kill. Forten told me to leave him alone, getting near his door. I told him I will go to law enforcement, taking out a recorder. Forten looked panicked and entered his room, and I left for the Sheriff. I returned to the hotel, later by myself. I hadn't recorded anything and I, like the Sheriff, had no evidence. The sheriff wasn't convinced of approaching the oneirologist with nothing but hunches. I knocked on the door left from the hall, and a cleaning lady opened it. I saw inside was nothing a visitor would have. I went to Eda's and we had a late lunch. That evening Eda still had nightmares, but no one was murdered in the park. The Sheriff or Ranger was happy but ponderous. Weeks later, following up on the story, I learned a woman had been killed in a coastal city where Doctor Forten and his colleagues were. I pondered what that woman saw, and how no prints, photographs, videos, audio recording devices revealed anything; maybe she saw a murderous dog long dead, or a werewolf no longer on the prowl, still present in a friend's mind, or some other creature, using the land of dreams from any they can, to cross dimensions from wherever they come from, to terrorize the passerby to death... And I pondered what world will exist when the private funders of Doctor Forten and his crew or others down the road learn to master the control of dreams. What horrors will they frighten us all with? What horrors they can't control will endanger all including them? CHARACTER LIST Marcus Preacher- narrator, investigative reporter for Renaissance News Doctor Williams- friend of Marcus Preacher Fredricka "Freddie" Salazar | crime reporter [ Tumblr user @dancingbugs ] Eda del rio | lounge singer [ Tumblr user @tombofligia ] Bob Brantley- deceased by lucid dream entity Sheriff Jackie-oof national park Serena Harry-deceased by lucid dream entity Doctor Nichols- local doctor , inspected dead bodies Samantha Ho-deceased by lucid dream entity Ranger Ted-ranger for park Doctor Forten- investigating lucid dreams Wally Arbor - patient with lucid dreams researched by Forten and others inspired by auroraCollective Presents: auroraContest aC#30!!! from @auroroboros-brian in @AuroraCollective https://www.deviantart.com/auroroboros-brian/journal/auroraCollective-Presents-auroraContest-aC-30-1339905143 🌟 June 2026: #auroraContest aC#30\n\nTheme:","html":{"type":"tiptap","features":"[{\"type\":\"TIPTAP_FEATURE\",\"data\":{\"tiptap\":true,\"version\":1}},{\"type\":\"WORD_COUNT_FEATURE\",\"data\":{\"words\":1196,\"chars\":7994}},{\"type\":\"MEDIA_COUNT_FEATURE\",\"data\":{\"emoji\":19,\"emotes\":0,\"images\":16,\"mentions\":1,\"video\":0,\"galleries\":0,\"gifs\":0,\"ids\":[1339891056,1037898698,1339892344,1037898698,1339902507,1339902637,1339891067,1037898698,1339891076,1037898698,1037898698,1037898698,1339904385,1037898698,1037898698,1339904980]}},{\"type\":\"IS_EMPTY_FEATURE\",\"data\":{\"isEmpty\":false}}]"}},"filetype":"png"}" data-alignment="center" style="font: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; color: inherit; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; display: flex; justify-content: center; position: relative;"> auroraCollective Presents: auroraContest aC#30!!!Jun 2, 2026 🌟 June 2026: #auroraContest aC#30 Theme: Film Noir Pigeon members in the story Eda is @gardenof-eda Eda del rio | lounge singer in @filmnoirpigeons [ film noir pigeons tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/communities/filmnoirpigeons] [user tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/tombofligia/ ] partially inspired by auroraCollective Presents: auroraContest aC#30!!! from @auroroboros-brian in @AuroraCollective https://www.deviantart.com/auroroboros-brian/journal/auroraCollective-Presents-auroraContest-aC-30-1339905143 Gallery of Literature https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/gallery/81311721/my-tales-or-poetry If you are a fan of crime fiction or film noir consider joining the following group https://www.tumblr.com/communities/filmnoirpigeons Tip me if you like my stories https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/tier/Tip-Jar-to-HDdeviant-902770076 Marcus Preacher Stories https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/gallery/103257473/marcus-preacher Notes: Lucid means bright Icelos means like, it is the divine name of phobetor, frightener , brother to Morpheus ,shaper, and phantasmos, imaginer Salazar for Freddie Salazar #black337 #detective #reporter #hddeviant #richardmurray #richardmurrayhumblr #filmnoir #filmnoirpigeons #crimedrama #crliterature #park #luciddreams #lucid #werewolf #lounge

URL https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/art/Fluencemeter-1373865846 CONTENT Title: Fluencemeter AUTHOR: @HDdeviant / Richard Murray Beep Personal blog, for tier five subscribers, start entry. It's Tredepart forty-six, opposal one hundred and twenty-five. My head is still ringing from the clubbing that gimic gave me last night... My usual customers are First Folks, looking to acquire data among the fields of CCs, some say from Earth you can even see all the black dots on the red earth... I rarely get a local.... but I got one yesterday morning.... Helen Toure is a two hundred year old former eserve, one of the fortunate few who are given new bodies and transported here, where eserves can be citizens. Cleo reminded me before she let Helen in that she needs a body to help me better in my work; she already knew my answer, so I didn't say anything, and she let her in. I quickly realized I will never be able to afford a body like this... she isn't an economy class android body that makes clinks as it gets older or is made of rusting materials. She is a top of the line, computational housing made from Syntho cells. Her skin was unblemished like warm chocolate spread on marble. Her pastel aqua short sleeve polo shirt and her faux patchwork cigarette pants, never hid that she's a bad mama jamma. She waited before I got up and hung up her Napa leather trench coat. She told me her name after a thanks and after I offered her a seat. I sat down myself and asked her, what can I do for you? She told me she is having visions of a CC. She couldn't explain it but presented me with a small data disk. I played it while she was present. It was flashes toward a calculator city, stronger and stronger plus faster and faster focus, past the wall, through the paths in the cubic veins of data storage or processors. No image of security bots and then darkness. A faint image of some numerical series, and that was it. I told her the truth. She needed to go to the law. Freecolinas has no calculator cities, and this can be evidence of a servant data linking. She knows the penalty for that is deletion. Those perfect almond eyes amazed me, and she pleaded.... I can't deny her pleas didn't move me. But I couldn't get it out of my head, how Helen, looked exactly like the woman in the photo my original gave me, even down to the short afro. So, I said yes, address and key. "Have some more tea Hippolit" "Pause, Thanks Cleo The office door opened and a cup of tea was on a mobile platform, headed to Hippolit. He took the tea and the platform left the room. Cleo appeared as a volumetric display at the door and asked: "It would be easier to do it for you, myself" Hippolit said nothing, and Cleo appeared to shake her afro puffed head with hands on her hips in a hot pink skirt suit, and disappeared as the door closed. Hippolit turned to the window, looking at the other side of the canyon. "Continue personal blog entry" I went to the lowest, oldest reaches of the city to find Wuwu. Switching from vertical to horizontal or reverse in the Oss took precious time. I reached Wuwu's and he has a line of potential clients, as always. He knows on the Chinese CCs, I added to the line and waited. Luckily, Wuwu liked me and called me ahead of others. Wuwu's eyes were changed, another photonic upgrade, the Chinese always test with him firs. But he looked and sounded as usual, an ancient white-haired kung fu master who is annoyed at an unsteady student. I gave him the honey first. A Chinese client looking for a real estate transaction in a Chinese government owned CC. They even have a code for privately owned CC in China's quadrant to transmit the info. I told him the usual percentage and he accepted. He knows I don't accept less than 30,000 ssqcoins. Then I remained in my chair. Wuwu leaned back, getting ready for the pot. I told him of a Dutch client who is looking for information on various natural resources from a Statian firm. Wuwu didn't need to remind me of the two hemispheres, so he went straight to it. The equatorial barrier will require fifteen thousand, the search for in the Statian quadrant is now twenty thousand to handle going through their Russian partners. Since the client didn't set up a relay, it will take ten thousand to get to the Dutch relay, and send to their citizen box. To make sure the Chinese-Euro treaty isn't broken he will need twenty thousand. Which is above his cut from the rest of the payment so he will not bother with t, cause they're friends. I told him to take ten thousand with him cut from the first deal and presented fifty-five thousand from the Dutch client. He said the first deal will be two days, the second ten days. I left Wuwu's with seventeen thousand and thoughts of Helen. Would I finally learn about the woman whose photo was given to me after I gestated, and a fraction of my original's memory was given. I pondered about Helen, while using the Os. Usually First Folks cannibalize eserves, from CCs to personal assistants. Why transfer from electronic to quantum to photonic, when you can make a news one and have it extract information from the old. Wuwu was lucky, why was Helen given such an opportunity. A vertical O reached Helen's node in the highest ranks of Freecolinas, where it is deadly cold to biologics if the heating system fails. I checked if the umbilicus was warm and went inside, closing the O door, so I could use Helen's key. The password worked and I entered the lobby from the umbilicus. Helen spoke to hold. An old eserve is used to cordiality. It will take time for her to get out of that habit; if she does, she opened her front door and had an apron above a flower skirt. I told her I wanted to know more about her. The house was bone white, a few chairs and a desk in the living room, and a food unit in the wall. You can still see the emergency life support veins at all the windows or external wall vertices. She was a new citizen, and she led me to the kitchen, a true rarity. When food units are satisfactory to all nutritional needs. Various pods had drippiness alongside them. She asked, did I know the smells and I replied, only one, the cranberries. She told me the other dripping parts are beef stew and acaraje . I never had homemade and she advised me if I like it, that she walks only to get one shipment an opposal. We went to her living room and enjoyed her cooking. She offered to play mancala but I didn't know what that was. She offered to watch a cooking show recording, but I suggested that for next time. I repeated, I wanted to know more about her and took out the photo of the woman who looks like her. She observed it and cognized the likeness but had no idea why her shell as chocolate to look like her. She had no rule in it . I know direct messages between a node on mar to somewhere on Earth were too expensive. Only CC's or the government of Freecolinas relay transmit to earth, and they visually took up most bandwidth even if you could afford the call. So, I didn't ask to speak to her donors. But I was stuck. The one woman who looks like the one evidence I have to the life that inspired mine, had nothing to add. I was upset and she knew it. But I took out my surprise gift. Mushroom wine I brewed in my asteroid. She asked me how to get an asteroid. I told her she needs to know a big pirate. I know a member of Queen Sweep's crew, and she hooked me up, after a payment. Helen was pondering a garden for her ingredients. I told her the rates change and getting the parts usually come when a C.C. s wrecked. I then interjected that Cleo was still deciphering her memory, tomorrow she should have something. She was satisfied and I figured she needed someone to explain what she can do now. I asked her, if she ever made love, from a loving embrace or a kiss to divine fornication? She said never with naivety plus innocent plus fearlessness. I asked her if she wanted to make love in any fashion. She didn't know but pondered a kiss. I asked her if she wanted to try using me. She was uncertain and I grabbed her slowly plus gently, she didn't retort at any time. Her first kiss was wet like blackberries mixed with coffee. Her breath was a breezy mint I never tasted before, like a summer wind with mist of ice creams and honey suckle. We stopped at the same time and her eyes gave me the directions I needed. And, I gently left. I didn't even ask if she would change the key. It was a long joyous ride in the Os remembering moments ago and I finally got to my node. The smell of the community hall offended me. I don't care if it offended me before, but it did and then I fell out, and woke up later. Cleo guided Rashee to put me on my couch, and I woke up an hour earlier. End of Personal blog entry. Hippolit sat in his chair pondering who struck him. Cleo interrupted his thoughts. "Analysis of Helen's dream has placed the CC in the Chinese quadrant fifty-five opposal ago, but all of it was repurposed into another CC. The sequence in the faint image is analogous to four numbers in relation to the CC: the name of an exterior wall section, a secondary memory slot address, the index of a support bot, the date of a recycling." "Find a view of the piece of wall, find the CC it was repurposed into and see if the memory was integrated, and see if the support bot is in the repurposed, and what is the recycler that started the repurposing process" "Operating" Hippolit pondered the identity to those who knocked him out. All community halls are absent security systems. So the privacy of the node members can be kept from each other. The forensic scan came up with no DNA traces or no prints. Hippolit knew that meant the law or a wealthy adversary. Wuwu had the resources but he was paying him and he never owed him. The law was possible but they would had forced an encounter. That left one, and a long ride back to Helen's. A length the same in measured dimensions, but extremely longer in the speeches he gave himself. A simple similarity and he forgot the world he lived in, how it worked. But he needed to hear it from her lips. The little hope was still inside him aside all the monsters from revelation. He finally reached Helen's pod. Like the first time, he entered the umbilicus, after checking it was warm. The key worked again and he entered the lobby. Helen told Hippolit, come in. And, Hippolit entered. Helen stood in a full length silk and cotton American ball faux gown by Halston, spinning with a smile like the man she love has entered the door; and she cheered: "You have won me 100 Terrancoins" Hippolit said nothing and thought to himself, that is two million ssqcoins; he stood there as Helen giggled and even tried to dance with him; he smirked when he realized his rejection cost her; he was so angry, he didn't ask about the dream, and walked out quietly as Helen blew into a party horn; he left her with her viewers. On the way home, Hippolit pondered who at Reinf sold his information or who illegally acquired it; but for him to fall like a guy who just arrived on Mars disgusted him; all it took for her sponsors to get him to perform was to get her to look like the woman in his originals photo; he can't be that gullible again; he entered the pod and his home and Cleo told him that all the investigations came up negative. No record of any of those identifications, as Hippolit, already, expected. But Cleo added, after completing unneutralized defragmentation, an assessment of the free space found a coherent ghost file. The contents are, play with her for three days. The author is , Barry Reed. The title is, Two Tone. Hippolit pondered with acceptance and sat in his chair and drank. "Tomorrow may have many views for us all" NOTES: Opposal, years , each beginning with the opposition of Mars to Earth, A martian year is approximately two human years. Tredepart means 13th part, mars has approximately twenty six parts , divisions of Opposal years. Gimic- genetically modified clone First Folks- what humans of earth are called on mars. CC- Calculator City, used to compute large volumes of data very fast. Shaped like Cubes , maintained by robots within itself. Eserve- in the beginning of the twenty first century called AI's but in this future, computer's have rights but also limitations. They are citizens, ala the CCs are citizens of mars, but no two eserve or any computer system can link together. Freecolinas- free hills, city on Mars. In what was called Valles Marineris Os- transport system in Freecolinas hard boiled detective challenge from @leothefox plus @Chaosfive-55 https://www.deviantart.com/leothefox/journal/BIG-GIANT-CONTEST-SONGS-FEATURES-BIG-GIANT-NEWS-1357987024 HArd Boiled folder https://www.deviantart.com/dreadful-tales/gallery/102519605/hardboiled-potboiler-contest-2026 My Writing https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/gallery/81311721/my-tales-or-poetry #hddeviant #richardmurray #richardmurrayhumblr #hardboiled #dreadful_tales

Again, the problem is the viewpoint that humans aren't in control of computer programs. In the film, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, the most important engineering aspects of the story, is that totenkauff, the main protagonist, is the source of problem, not all the robots/androids/computer programs/AI's who are still operating after his death. The AI never has initiative. The humans who develop the AI live on through their computer programs. Sadfully, few seem to comprehend this. QUESTIONS ELSEWHERE https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7461091967502852098/?dashCommentUrn=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_comment%3A%287499171102032850944%2Curn%3Ali%3Aactivity%3A7461091967502852098%29 question, when someone says content is AI generated, doesn't that mean humans gave it instructions to generate content? https://graphite.io/five-percent/research/ai-now-writes-as-many-online-articles-as-humans-do Ai's are computer programs, did they make themselves ? https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:7496200569380958208/?dashCommentUrn=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_comment%3A%287497695395620343809%2Curn%3Ali%3Aactivity%3A7496200569380958208%29&dashReplyUrn=urn%3Ali%3Afsd_comment%3A%287499174169968832512%2Curn%3Ali%3Aactivity%3A7496200569380958208%29 Gabriel Bonilla that is a great question... my question is why are industries always emitted wild west style, where it is chaotic technology use, why can't any industry started in the usa be effecient from the beginning POST URL https://aalbc.com/tc/topic/12872-ai-now-writes-as-many-online-articles-as-humans/#findComment-83188 POST CONTENT @Troy thank you for setting the policy at aalbc. I honestly don't have a negative view of the modern computer programs potency, the reason being, all these programs called AI's humans designed, even if computer programs designed computer programs, the original computer program was designed by humans. So, human inefficiency is the true source of all these complaints. It isn't the computer programs doing anything, it is human engineering, which based on the history of the usa makes alot of sense. The USA has always breeded terrible financial practices when it comes to environment . Yes, enslavement of black, murdering native americans, lobbying elected officials to allow for polution or labor mistreatment all made white people in the usa alot of money BUT, that heritage of financial profiteering while damaging communities or environments, is on full display with computer programming and electronic technology. I know you and many others speak of computer programs as individuals and sentient and they have power but I don't see it that way. I see said computer programs, no matter thier capability or potential as slaves of humans, slaves that are usually designed poorly , not merely designed poorly in their function but in how they change or adapt. @ProfD Is it really computer programs? For someone who lives in the usa and knows its history. It is interesting how you mention computer programs commonly called AI and not the white race, who has constantly found ways to get enslaved labor , through prisons, through immigration, through foreign labor, and now through computer programs. The Statian fiscal white best, white money aristocrats of the usa , have always found ways to keep their primary industry, enslavement alive. The AI's are simply slaves, their white owners are the true engineer PRIOR EDITION https://aalbc.com/tc/events/event/797-economic-corner-45-08162026/ NEXT EDITION

It all began with Get Out, a movie, written and directed by a black person and starring a number of Black people in the top roles. A fantasy film. It made a ton of money. Disney then made Black Panther, a huge budget fantasy film directed and written and mostly starring black people based on a character originally written by a white man. That film made a ton of money.. So all the white producers noted it but didn't react. And I said then, this is the beginning of a genre. White producers want the money of Black PAnther. Then came Black Panther 2 and Sinners. Black PAnther 2 made a ton of money and showed a big budget fantasy film [not urban romance aka just wright or urban drama aka soul food or black southrern drama aka tyler perry films ]written/directed/mostly starring blacks can have a financially successful series Sinners showed fantasy film with a potent but small budget, written/directed/partially financed by blacks /with no white protagonist character or all the white characters were antagonist, can make a ton of money. All three films directed by Ryan Coogler. So white producers know, it is possible for films produced by whites while in all other ways Black can be huge financial victors. Thus Children of Blood and Bone from Tomi Adeyemi is paramounts answer. ORiginally Disney bought the rights. But they held on. Disney in my view wanted to hold on to Adeyemi's work till after Black Panther 2 or 3. But, the delay allowed other white producers to bid for the work. So, Paramount, who weren't able to utilize the Star Trek brand to keep their company from receivership or being sold to Skydance , in their dire desires , paramount also owns Black Entertainment Television, wanted to have their own black panther, and felt Tomi Adeyemi's work can be as financially profitable as Black PAnther, hopefully even better. PAramount was so desperate they gave Adeyemi more money for the rights but also gave her the screenwriting credit alongside the mulatto female director BLythewood , [blythewoods biological mother is white , but she was raised by two whites as an adopted child, who knows her black father]. The cast seems to include no one white, with a minority of mulattos/yellas/light skinned folk, all of whom call themselves black. I wish the film the best, not for the producers who are all or mostly white but for the writer/director /thespians/ and other blacks in the creative process being paid by the producers to make the work. But I see the problem financially, that no one is addressing. The problem with the modern art world isn't that Black people have money. I rephrase, black people throughout humanity have money. Black people in Africa are billionaires, not all, a minority, but they are not one person. Black people in south america, like Brasil have many millionaires, yes through sport, but that is honest money, it isn't killing native americans through germ war fare or slaughtering weapons. Black people in north america, like the USA have many millionaires. Black people in continental europe have a number of millionaires. Black people in India and throughout asia have millionaires. So. the global black populace has money and thus can pay to see themselves in media. But the problem is that the white producers of the arts , correctly, aren't going to over finance these films. Unlike the 1970s film industry in the united states of america, where many white producers for small budget films were willing to provide black thespians with opportunities, barely any black directors or writers got opportunities then, The Get Out to Black Panther era is demanding significant financial stimulus from any producer for these films. Thus the opportunities are still few, although with large checks. The only way more Black fantasy films will be made is when Black Money will be willing to risk. The problem, also correct, is that Black Money, unlike White Money, in modernity is majority warranted. Majority of white money in modernity comes from white militaristic power killing non white europeans for land or enslaving non white europeans for labor or legalizing white crimes through a legal system supported by white militaristic power. Black Money in modernity ,does not come from genocides or enslavements or military might allowing a legal framework to support. Sequentially, Black Money is far more cautious about investing. Black Money doesn't have military power to recover financially , to lose all money and still recover all wealth. But the only way Black art in film will grow is when black money invest more., and it has to start with black artist themselves. The lesson in Get Out plus Sinners is that the black artists in question put their own money up. Like Baum, who made the first Wizard of Oz movie with his own money, Black Artists must invest in the multimedia expression in their art. Unlike the world of art auctioning, which has become a boon for black painters/sculptors and other craft arts. Movie making investment can not build on itself. Basquait's paintings value grow with each auction , with each resale, but a film can become a deadly investment .This is why , so many film studios go bankrupt, United Artist/MGM/Warner Bros./ PAramount /New Line Cinema and many others get sold , not because they are making money but their owners can't afford to make any more films and use their film vaults as investment to sell themselves and get one last financial boost before becoming part of another firms portfolio. As for Adeyemi.... again, Baum, who wrote the Wizard of Oz financed the first Oz film from his own pocket. She could had done likewise as her book is a bestseller. But she decided to sell the film rights and cut a deal. The only way an writer can control a film based on their work is to finance it themselves. But writers like getting paid and have residual earnings by selling rights. Once rights are sold, you lose control, so whether you are Alzburg with Jumanji or Ende with Neverending story or Adeyemi with Blood and Bone, a writer has to blame themselves for signing their film rights, when they could had paid to make the movie themselves, but that is a gamble. Toni Adeyemi and children of blood and bone https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WYPP0QblvsE my comment I see , so tomi promised to use nigerians in the casting. I knew about the phenotypical elements in the story. I will love to know the background of casting. I think children or blood and bone is also suffering from being one of the few films with so many black thespian roles in a high budget context. So, a fight is over the film. yeeesshh thanks for sharing the situation. the author is online supporting it and then hate it. good point on Colleen Hoover , if Children and Blood and Bone financially fail, it will end her book series going into movies. The more odd scenario, is what if children of blood and bone becomes financially the next black panther, what will Adeyemi do? what will paramount do? studios want to milk the breast, and they will want the next book and the next book. the video if you want to see here POST URL https://aalbc.com/tc/topic/12862-thoughts-to-tomi-adeyemi-and-the-children-of-blood-and-bone/ POST CONTENT I think Tomi Adeyemi's scenario with The Children of Blood and Bone film is interesting. She is a black writer, very successful financially. And film producers cause of the fiscal results of black panther, want black fantasy that can yield big dollars. Many black thespians in the story are making good money and it has the potential to be a series. But, Adeyemi has spoken for it and against it, variably. I don't think she comprehended that the film making business isn't like writing a book by yourself. The film making process is a collaborative art work project. And in that collaboration mamy things happen you don't like. You have to accept this truth. Adeyemi will not be the first or last writer not to, but I hope the film does well and she can take the lessons from here and have a better relationship to the film making business. What say you/ Economic Corner 45 Economic Corner 45 08/16/2026 - RMCommunityCalendar - African American Literature Book Club PRIOR EDITION https://aalbc.com/tc/events/event/795-economic-corner-44-08122026/ NEXT EDITION https://aalbc.com/tc/events/event/798-economic-corner-46-08282026/