Imagine You're A Writer, And There Are People Scribbling In The Margins Of Your Books, Underlining Their

The Homes of Hidden Animals Series by Jeniak

This artist on Instagram // Twitter

Ready to pounce an unseen victim or victims, the tiger draws our attention to it first before our minds wander to the raging storm and billowing vegetation in the background and foreground. It is an inspirational, haunting piece on the powers of desperation or determination, where our subject drags us in its devotion to the point of ignoring everything else that's happening elsewhere.

Perhaps that was the mind-state that Henri Rousseau was experiencing at the time of the painting's creation. A late bloomer in the art scene, he could have been desperate or determined enough to make a breakthrough into the art world. And that desperation or determination is poured into the painting where despite the dangers of the raging storm, our tiger is either very desperate or very hungry for food. Either way, it is a very dangerous mix to have that state of mind.

Perhaps, it was a good thing that his artwork was accepted at the Salon des Independants. Wonder what would have happened if the painting was rejected again, in that state of his?

Henri Rousseau, Tiger in a Tropical Storm, 1891.

Science News

Water beetles can live on after being eaten and excreted by a frog

After being eaten by a frog, some water beetles can scurry through the digestive tract and emerge on the other side, alive and well.

Imagine yourself as an insect, a water beetle to be exact, swimming around searching for food when all of a sudden, a giant frog swallows you whole! What would you do then?

For Regimbartia attenuata, the only option besides accepting your fate and dissolving quietly is to search for the rear-end exit. Shinji Sugiura, an ecologist at Japan's Kobe University, discovered that these amazing beetles actively escape death by swimming through a predator's digestive tract and exiting from its butt, intact with no observable damage.

Regimbartia attenuata escaping from the vents of Pelophylax nigromaculatus and Hyla japonica (4× speed). Video credit to Current Biology

While rare, the phenomenon is not unheard of as certain snail species are known to seal their shells shut and await excretion to survive being eaten by birds or fish. However, what makes this particular research fascinating is that the prey (water beetle) is actively escaping the predator (frog) rather than passively waiting for the digestion process to be complete.

Hypothetical escape route of Regimbartia attenuata through the frog digestive system. Photo credit to Kobe University.

For further reading, you can click on the following link for the research article published in Current Biology on August 3, 2020.

Cantao ocellatus

Kan- wa ma kan.

It was- and it was not.

It's how all the stories start. They tell you of what was and what wasn't, but they don't tell you which is which.

Perhaps you are seven. Perhaps you are eight. You ask the sweet, greying hakawati (story crafter) "but a'amu (uncle), was it real?" Your eyes bright with eagerness and hope. And he tells you, his smile never faltering, "kan wa ma kan, my child. It was and it wasn't. Perhaps it is real. Perhaps there were caverns and theives and treasure. Perhaps there were empires and warriors and charmers. Perhaps it was the land of mysteries- the very land that Shahrazad spoke of. And perhaps it was not."

You close your eyes to better imagine the stories the old man tells. What a wild thing it was, your imagination- and even wilder his was, for the stories he crafted were his own. Flying carpets. Music. Mercenaries. A king's banquet. A marid (jinn) to make your wishes come true. "But was it?" You ask. Desperately hoping it was. And more so wishing it is. "It was and it wasn't," your hakawati says smiling.

You can smell the sweet smoke from the altars that burn ever so steadily; consuming an offering to gods long forgotten. You can hear the echoes of music long since silenced. You see the dances of people long dead. You know their stories. "But was it?" You press further. "It was and it wasn't," the old man says, his smile never fading.

You're out in the golden dunes of Arabia. A glistening object catches your eye and you take hold of it- and you are knocked back by the force of the marid storming out. "Shobeik lobeik. A'bdak bein edeik. Your wish is my command." He says. But you have no desire for anything other than answers "was it real?" You ask, but he disintegrates into whatever nothingness he came from, leaving you asking yourself whether or not it was. Whether or not you are.

You are growing up. You are now thirteen. You have yet to stop asking "was it?" Your father says it was not. Your brother says it was not. Your friend says it was not. But you are wild and stubborn. You say "but what if it was?" And they laugh you off.

Four years later and you are seventeen; and the raging fire of the stories' magic within you dims to embers. Your hakawati has long since passed away. You keep his smile tucked into a fold so deep in your heart you nearly forget about it. And you stop asking for stories. You stop asking "was it?" And what is even worse, though, is that you start to believe that perhaps, after all, it was not. That it never was.

But I am here to tell you this; it was. You spoke to the marid. You heard the music. You saw the people dancing and you smelled the offerings to their gods. It might be so deep within you, as deep as your beloved hakawati's smile is buried. And I want you to know that you, now, have your answer.

Le Manoir du Diable (1896)

Considered the earliest horror film ever made, Le Manoir du Diable, French for House of the Devil, is an 1896 silent film by George Méliès about two wandering cavaliers and how the Devil played tricks on them.

Far from being terror-inducing, the entire 3-minute short film (quite ambitious at the time) was actually a comic sketch meant to evoke laughter and amusement from its audience, rather than fear. It was presumed lost until the late 1980s when a copy was found again and restored by the New Zealand Film Archives.

I would watch it.

Beware All Who Enter

Here lies the passage to the dead. Or living. On undecided. Honestly, no pressure except the one you put on yourselves.

Hello, my name is Fisher (pseudonym, obviously!) and this is my personal blog. I'll mostly write or reblog about:

Horror stuff such as book reviews and movie or tv suggestions but mostly book reviews.

Paranormal shit from your haunted hollows to curious cryptids and demonic denizens

Beetles and cats cause these two are my favorite animals

Art pieces here and there. Links will be given. If I forgot to credit, please let me know.

Generally anything green. Aesthetics, fashion, nature photos, you name it. If it's green, it's in.

There will be a number of posts on Malaysian culture (Guess where I'm from?) and Islamic anecdotes sprinkled in as well.

Contents are generally posted on Thursdays after 7pm. Please keep any and all messages civil. Notice how I only use one profanity in this post. That's all. Explore safely and happy hauntings.

The Tenement - a menace to all by Udo J. Keppler, (1872 - 1956) The illustration shows the spirits of alcoholism, opium, dens, prostitution, gambling and street crime, as well as the figure of Death, issuing from a tenement house

Bookstore in Copenhagen, Denmark. 1899.