Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

TOC Files 6: Time's Fell Hand

Title: 6. Time's Fell Hand
Series: The TOC Files
Word Count 5280
Summary The newly-formed TOC go on their first mission: Paris after the French Revolution
Author's Note Influenced by the Scarlet Pimpernel

VI. Time's Fell Hand
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage
Shakespeare, "Sonnet LXIV"

Alan Kelly watched as the girl flung the larger man over her shoulders. "Karate is certainly a lost art," he commented. "Nowadays there doesn't seem to be that much hand-to-hand combat."

"I think it has a more personal touch than lasers," she said with a smile as she helped the man stand. "Now, what do you think, sergeant?"

The sergeant rubbed his back. "It's just about as painful."

"You still haven't got the landing perfect," the girl said as she wiped her face with a towel.

The intercom buzzed. "Will Major Kelly and Miss Flynn please come the conference room?"

"Sounds like they've made a decision, Shannon," Alan said.

"What about Gil?"

"He must already be there or else they would have called him too."

They walked through the metal halls of the Military Base. Alan was saluted and a few men whispered as he passed. "They still haven't gotten used to the fact that you're here," Shannon said.

"It's either that, or seeing a female civilian on the Base."

"There's nothing special about me."

"Don't sell yourself short. You faced more in a week than most of those recruits will in a year. Besides, not everyone here can say they were born in the 20th century!"

"You know, if you hadn't moved into that flat, I'd still be in that dead-end job."

"What did you do, anyway?"

"I was a historical researcher."

"Kind of ironic then, since you are now a Temporal Observer."

"Is that what we're called? Sounds nice and important. Have they announced our existence to the public yet?"

"I'm not sure. If not, they will after the first mission."

"I wonder where they've decided to send us. Hopefully, some peaceful time. I've had enough fighting for awhile."

"Under the Military influence, I doubt it. It'll probably be some gory battle or something. Sometimes, I ashamed to be part of it."

"Oh, but you're different. You're not as gung-ho as the others. I know you're the kind of man who would settle something with the least amount of bloodshed possible."

"A kind of idealistic soldier."

"If you like."

They knocked on the door and it was opened for them. At the table facing them sat the Temporal Committee, a group composed of both Military and Government personnel. It was this group that would hold the lives of three people in their hands by sending them into the past. Gilbert Connor was already there. "Nice to see you two. What have you been doing?"

"We should be asking you," said Alan.

"I've been doing some more work on the machines."

The Committee chairman stood. "Now that we are all here, we may begin. As you all know, this represents both a scientific and historic breakthrough. No more debates on what really happened. The three of you will observe, and take notes when possible, certain events in Earth's history. The Committee will deliberate on appropriate times and then decide your mission. In future, we will welcome your recommendations."

"Yes, but what about our first mission? You didn't ask us here to tell us what we already know."

"Straight to the point, eh, Major? We have decided, with some difficulty, on Paris 1793--October __ to witness the execution of Marie Antoinette."

"That's quite an objective for a first mission," Alan said. "Couldn't you have picked something a bit more, well, genteel?"

"The decision was based on the idea that you would be able to find out what drove them to do what they did."

"I was never one for mob psychology, sir," said Gil, "but their thoughts of reason and enlightenment would be more my style."

The Chairman looked at Shannon. "Do you have anything to add, Miss Flynn?"

"The French Revolution was what I was researching when I met Alan. The time you've chosen is known as the Reign of Terror and was the worst period of the whole revolution."

"You will be given implants which will aid you in learning French as well as the politics and social conditions of the time."


"They're painless, Shannon," Gil told her. "You won't even know you have one."

"When are we to leave?" questioned Alan.

"Within 24 hours," answered the chairman, sitting down.

Alan knew a dismissal when he heard one. He saluted and walked out, his friends following. "Well, mes amis, it looks as if we're off to Paris."

"What are we going to do once we get there? What will be our story?"

"Since we'll be unsure of our footing, we can say we're from the provinces. That should satisfy them."

They reported to the sickbay and were prepared to receive the implants. The insertion was painless as Gil had said and they were each a little dizzy when they came to. The rest of the day was their own to prepare for the mission.

* * * *

Shannon woke the next morning feeling refreshed. She stretched and changed clothes before heading to the mess for breakfast. On her way, she saw Gil. "How long have you known Alan?"

"Since we were kids. We grew up together. Looking at us now, you wouldn't think that we were practically inseparable. While he turned towards the Military, I leaned towards science, philosophy, and even psychology. When he was off on assignments, he still found the time to send word of how he was doing."

"The media's been saying things about the 'Return of the Hero'. Was he really?"

"One of, if not the best pilots going. He's got a chestful of decorations and a ship named after him. What more could a guy want?"

"So being accused of murder really lowered him in the eyes of the public."

"Well, he wouldn't have become a martyr."

They arrived at the Officers' Mess and joined Alan who was having eggs and toast. "Did you two sleep well?"

"I haven't slept like that in ages."

"It's a good thing. They've upped our departure time. After a briefing, we're off."

The briefing didn't take very long. The Committee told them the goals of the mission and tested the implants. Alan found it hard to believe that the last time he left, he was a wanted man and had no idea of what he was going to encounter. Alan was placed in charge because, of the three, he had the most experience in time-travel and covert operations. He entrusted the transmuter to Gil because he knew best how it worked. "Okay, here goes nothin'."

* * * *

They "landed" in a small clearing just outside the city gates. Gil looked about in amazement. "Fantastic. Simply fantastic," he whispered.

"Gil, c'mon, use the transmuter. I don't think we can really 'blend in' wearing this stuff," Alan told him.

"Oh, sorry." He took the transmuter and changed their clothes. He and Alan both wore ragged trousers, wooden sabots, coarse linen shirts and a torn coat belted with rope. Shannon ended up with a patched tan cotton skirt and a loose white blouse. Gil then used it on their modern IDs to turn them into contemporary travel papers and certificates civism. When all was in order, they headed for Paris.

Their papers passed inspection at the gate. "Today is the last day for the Widow Capet," the sergeant told them. "You might want to hurry so you don't miss it."

They followed the crowds to the Place de la Concorde where the stench of old blood greeted their nostrils. Shannon wrinkled her nose but braved it out. Alan bought them each a small loaf of bread and a cup of wine. "How can you eat with all this going on?" Shannon was outraged.

"We have to fit in, don't we? Try some. It's really not that bad," said Alan, munching on his petit pain

Horses' hooves were heard as well as the creak of wooden wheels. A noise rose from the crowd that was a mixture of taunting and cheering. "That must be the Widow Capet," remarked Gil.

He was right. A tumbrel entered the Place and standing in it was the ex-queen of France, Marie-Antoinette. Her once-glorious hair had been cropped short and she was dressed simply in a white dress and bonnet with black stockings and red shoes. Some of the more drunken observers pelted her with rotten fruit.

"God, this is awful," Shannon whispered. "How can people be so cruel?"

"The peasants were an oppressed people and starved while the aristocrats flaunted their riches. This is their form of revenge."

Shannon looked at Gil. "I meant that rhetorically."

"Yeah, and you'd better keep it down. Any remarks against it and you could experience the blade firsthand," Alan told her as he watched Marie-Antoinette climb the steps to the guillotine.

He realised that a person showed their true self in the face of death. Knowing this, Alan saw that Marie-Antoinette was a true queen, carrying herself with dignity. Gil said something about taking Shannon away before she did something they would all regret. Alan barely nodded and kept his eyes on the guillotine.

As she approached the block where she would rest her head, she stumbled and the executioner helped her stand. As he did so, she apologised for stepping on his foot. That was the last thing she ever said.

The loud roar of the mob brought him out of his tunnel-vision and the stench of blood returned. He cut his way through the crowd and headed along Rue de Rivoli. As he passed an inn, he heard his name called. "Alan, nous ai été attendant pour te," said Gil. "Shannon and I decided to get something to eat here and the innkeeper says he has two rooms for us."

"That's wonderful," Alan said, joining them at the table. He poured himself a mug of wine from the bottle on the table. As he drank, he noticed that the others in the room were staring at them. They all wore either a bonnet rouge or a tricolour rosette. They whispered among themselves and pointed at the country bumpkins. "I think we're about to have our loyalties tested," Alan said. He looked at Shannon. "Keep your tongue in line about the execution, okay? I know you just might choke on your words, but please remember our lives will be on the line."

"Certainment, mon frere," she said with a smile.

A red-faced man who had had a bit too much to drink came over to them. "Come to see the Widow Capet meet Madame Guillotine, citoyens?"

"Yes. We had been wanting to come to Paris for a long time and this gave us a good reason," said Gil.

"Where do you hail from?" asked a second.

"Calais," Alan told them.

"Quite a journey," said the first man. "Don't you agree, Claude?"

"I do, Jacques. But seeing the Widow Capet must have made it worthwhile." He looked at Shannon. "What did you think, citoyenne?"

"After reading about the executions, I think I had pictured something different in my mind. This surpassed them all. I can't express my feelings or find le mot just." Alan sighed. She had tip-toed around the truth perfectly.

"You can read?" asked Jacques.

"My brothers and I were taught by the curé of our village."

"Priests are good for something after all," said Claude. "Since you have been reading about the goings-on in Paris, what do you think of them?"

"They were inevitable and unavoidable," said Gil. "The monarchy was weak and the Church wasn't much better. The time was right and the people rose up."

Alan kept him from saying more by giving him a swift kick to the shin under the table. "You are a quiet one, my friend," Claude said to him. "What do you have to say?"

"Too bad it didn't happen sooner," Alan remarked with a smirk.

"I like you," Claude said, slapping him on the back. "With such an attitude, you will go far."

"Merci, citoyen. As you said, we have had a long journey today and I am quite tired. I think my siblings and I will retire for a short nap." Alan stood.

"Of course, mes amis," said Jacques. "Please forgive us. Sleep well."

Alan and the others went upstairs to the two rooms the landlord had provided for them. Shannon joined them in their room. "What's up? You were very short down there."

"Yeah, and why did you kick me?" asked Gil.

"En français. Gil was starting to sound like a history book down there. Okay, the priests taught us to read, but they didn't teach us how to think politically or logically. You could have ruined everything."

"What did you expect me to say? After all, I could just be repeating I heard."

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry. I'm just a little on edge. This is our first 'mission'."

"You have every right to be," said Shannon. "Why don't we just take this first day to get used to our surroundings and then tomorrow can begin observations."

"As always, you go directly to the point," said Alan. "Our reports will be more detailed if we understand more."

* * * *

The following morning, after a simple breakfast, they started to walk the streets of Paris on the pretence of looking for employment. Jobs were scarce, they discovered, but their search gave them a new outlook on the social aspects of Revolutionary Paris. Shannon was appalled by the squalor and the young urchins playing in the gutters. "This is terrible," she said. "How can they live like this?"

"That's just it, most of them don't. The mortality rate is high due to disease," Gil told her. "In this time of political progress, some of the more important things are overlooked."

Alan found a small tavern in the shadow of the Concierge Prison where the parade of tumbrels was almost non-stop. "You chose this on purpose, didn't you?"

"It's the reason we're here, isn't it?" Alan said drinking his ale. "We can't just watch the executions. We have to view the other side." He kept looking out the window.

Shannon and Gilbert left him alone. Alan blocked out all outside noise as he watched the road. He didn't know what came over him. It was a morbid fascination. He couldn't understand how people could be so bloodthirsty in peacetime. In a sense, the aristocrats brought it upon themselves because they didn't treat the lower-classes as people. After about fifteen minutes or so, he heard a piece of conversation that interested him. He turned and looked blankly and Gil and Shannon until he placed the voices. He leaned forward and whispered, "Those two men over there," he nodded, "are not French."

"What?" asked Shannon in disbelief. "Where are they from, then? England?"

"No, their accents aren't English. They might be Austrian."

"Yesterday must've been quite a shock to them, seeing Marie-Antoinette die," Gil remarked.

"What do we do?"

"Follow them. I heard them mention the Dauphin. I wouldn't be surprised if they plan to rescue him."

"That's probably why they chose this tavern. It gives them a good view of the comings and goings to the prison."

"Kind of for the same reasons as you, eh?" said Gil with a smile.

Alan ignored him. "Okay, they're getting us. I'll meet you guys back at the inn." He left before they could protest.

"I thought we were only supposed to observe," Shannon said.

"He never could sit still." Gil paid the bill and headed out the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the inn. There's nothing we can do now." He dodged a group of children. "He can take care of himself." He heard no protest and found that unusual. He turned around and saw she was gone. "Wonderful. I'm in Paris with two stubborn people." Gil continued on to the inn knowing that one of them would make it back.

* * * *

Alan followed the Austrians from a discreet distance as they headed deeper into the city. He had no real idea where he was going, he just kept his eyes on his quarry. They turned down a side street and he followed. He turned the corner and found a knife pointing at his chest. "Why have you been following us, citoyen? What have we done?"

"Don't worry, I won't turn you in," he replied in German. "I'm not even French."

They stared at him strangely. After all, here he was, in the middle of this upheaval, claiming to be a foreigner. "That still does not explain why you were following us," said the younger of the two.

"Well, if you will kindly remove your knife, I'll explain."

"Your explanation will seem more convincing with it there."

"Remove the knife or you will have no say in the matter."

Alan turned to see Shannon standing in the mouth of the alley with a pistol aimed at the Austrians. The young man sheathed his knife. "You can put it down now, Shannon," he told her in French. Shannon did, but kept a wary eye on them. "Okay, you know we're not French and we know the same about you. The reason I followed you was because I heard you mention the Dauphin and I was curious as to what you had planned."

"You are English?" asked the older man. Alan said nothing. "You must be angered by this so-called French 'justice'." He lowered his voice. "We plan to rescue the Dauphin and take him to Austria where he will be welcomed by the people of his mother."

The younger one spoke softly to him to prevent Alan from hearing. It didn't work. "Can we trust them, Johann? They could be spies for Robespierre."

"Hush, Frederick. We will be prepared for that."

Alan and Shannon watched them, unsure of what to do. "To save the Dauphin is a noble idea..."

"Johann," the man supplied.

"My sister and I cannot commit ourselves to this without taking all the possible consequences into consideration. If we could decide on a rendezvous, we could tell you our decision then." Shannon nodded her agreement.

"How about the courtyard of the Palais Royale?" said Frederick. "There are usually many people there that our meeting will not be noticed."

Alan looked at Shannon for approval. "He's right. It's the ideal meeting place."

"Shall we say 11:00 in the morning?" asked Alan.

Johann and Frederick both agreed and the meeting was set.

* * * *

That evening they gathered in Shannon's room to talk. Shannon was ready to believe the Austrians. "We have to get him out of there. It would provide some form of hope."

"It would be quite pointless," said Alan. "We know for a fact that he died in prison. We also know that the Revolution cleared the way for Napoleon. We're only meant to observe." He said this to try and convince himself as well.

"I know he has to die, but wouldn't it be better for him if he were in the fresh air?"

Gil interposed. "You said that the younger of the two thought you to be spies for Robespierre. Did it ever occur to you that they could be the spies?"

"They said that they would be prepared for that possibility and so will we."

"You've decided then?" asked Gil.

"Yes. We'll help them."

"Fantastic! Soon the Dauphin will be out!" Shannon became so excited that she for got her French.

"Ssshhh," Alan hissed. "En français. Someone could be listening."

"No. They're all downstairs in the tavern getting drunk."

Unbeknownst to those inside, a figure was walking down the hall and heard Shannon's outburst. What surprised him was that it was in English--a language of which he had a passing knowledge. That alone was enough to be arrested, but the rescue of the Dauphin, that meant Madame la Guillotine. He sneaked downstairs and out the back door and made his way to where Robspierre was dining. This news would be worth a great deal.

* * * *

The following morning after breakfast, the Temporal Observers left for their meeting with the two Austrians. They couldn't go directly to the Palais Royale, so they decided to pay another visit to the Place de la Concorde. Shannon held her tongue as she watched the line of condemned people mount the steps. Alan nudged them after a sufficient amount of time so they would make their appointment. It was decided that Gil would be their ace-in-the-hole since his existence was unknown. He would watch the encounter from a safe distance and show himself when everything proved settled.

Shannon spotted them first, sitting on a bench reading a revolutionary paper. They walked over and sat on a bench next to them. "We've agreed to help you," Alan said. "With the Dauphin free, there will be hope for France."

A third man approached them and nodded. Frederick returned the nod as Johann turned to Alan. "I have to apologise, but such precautions are necessary. We had to make sure you were not followed."

"I would have been surprised if you hadn't. What did you have in mind?"

"Straight to the point, you English. We have many members in our organisation and some have gotten jobs in the Concierge. When the time is right, they will smuggle the boy out."

"What can we do?" asked Shannon.

"Every organisation can use more people. Diversions would be the main reason. We will need help to confuse the guards."

Out of the corner of her eye, Shannon saw Gil coming towards them. He arrived, panting. "Soldiers. Coming this way."

"Who are you?" Frederick asked, reaching for his knife.

Gil looked at Alan who answered, "He's with us." He looked at Gil. "Where were they headed?"

"Here. I don't think we should be seen together."

"I agree," said Frederick. "We must wait and meet again later."

"I think it's too late for that," said Shannon as the motley line of soldiers advanced on them.

"Scatter," whispered Alan.

They all went in separate directions, but it was a futile gesture as there were guards posted at every exit. They were all arrested on the charge of treason and taken to the Concierge.

* * * *

Alan felt miserable. As he lay on his flea-infested pallet. all he could think of was Johann and Frederick and the rest of their organisation lying in prison just because he went against orders. It was all his fault. He shouldn't have let Shannon lay a guilt-trip on him by mentioning the Dauphin. He had learned the hard way that he was impossible to remain neutral under such circumstances. He also knew that he couldn't just leave not knowing about the others.

"Penny for your thoughts," said Gil.

"You wouldn't want to know."

"But I would, Major."

That voice! It couldn't be. He slowly turned his head at looked at the door. A face was grinning at him through the barred window. "Oh, hello, Cameron," he said, feigning disinterest.

"You could at least try to sound more surprised."

"But I'm not. Your type thrives on the misery of others. You must be right at home."

Cameron James knew he wouldn't be able to get Alan upset, so he worked on Gil. "It's quite nice to see the fruits of your labour, isn't it, Doctor? But don't you find it a bit dull going where they tell you?"

"Bored? I don't know what you're talking about. This is a fantastic experience. You don't have the risk."

"No, you only land in prison." Cameron smiled. "That reminds me. Your Austrian friends are scheduled for tomorrow morning. You can think of them at your trial." He hoped to get some reaction from Alan, but Alan only ignored him.

"Where's Shannon?" asked Gil.

"Oh, she's doing well, considering." Planting that seed of doubt, Cameron left.

Alan waited a few moments then began to spout his thoughts on the man's ancestry. "God, that man's ego has to be shot down! I wouldn't be surprised if Robespierre thought him a godsend."

"Do you think he meant what he said about Johann and Frederick?"

"He had no reason to lie about that."

"And Shannon?"

"I think he did that just to get us mad. Needless to say, he's good at it."

* * * *

Shannon's cell was in better condition than that of her companions. It wasn't as damp and had better circulation. She was worrying about her friends when the door opened and the gaoler stepped in. "You have a visitor, citoyenne."

"I don't want to see anyone."

"Not even an old acquaintance, Miss Flynn?" asked Cameron as he stepped into the cell.

"My dream just became a nightmare."

"Certainly, you don't think that bad of me?"

"You're right. It's worse."

"Come now, Miss Flynn, you must know by now how I feel about you." Shannon said nothing; this was something new. "Why do you think I took you from Morgan's ship?"

"You wanted to use me to get to Alan," she replied bluntly.

"There were many other ways for me to get to the major. What I'm trying to say is that I care for you, Shannon."

Shannon couldn't believe what she heard. She was amazed and sickened at the prospect. "And what makes you think that I'd care for the likes of you? You're a fraud, a murderer, and a traitor."

Cameron shook his head. "I didn't want it to end like this. You and your friends will go on trial in the morning and visit the guillotine in the afternoon." He paused at the door. "If you change your mind, let me know." He left and Shannon threw her water at his retreating back.

* * * *

The next morning they were taken in front of the tribunal to face their charges. One member stood and read: "Maj. Alan Kelly, Dr. Gilbert Connor, and Miss Shannon Flynn have been charged as spies against the French Republic. Two nights ago they were heard speaking in English about Louis Capet fils. They were followed the next day and were seen in the company of Austrians, who, upon their arrest, confessed to planning a rescue." He sat.

A different member, one who seemed to be in charge, rose. "In your absence, you were found guilty of the heinous crimes and will be executed at the earliest possible convenience." He resumed his sear and the prisoners were escorted out.

As they passed Cameron, Alan said, "It's not over yet, not by a longshot."

Cameron just smiled, but his look changed when he saw Shannon. His eyes took on a sad, hurt quality and he shrugged as if to say, "It's up to you".

After they were put in a holding cell, Gil asked, "Why did Cameron look at you that way?"

"He said that he loved me," she said softly. "We could go free if I agreed to go with him."

"Sounds like another ploy to me," remarked Gil.

"I don't know. I think he means it," Alan said thoughtfully.


"It's not as if he isn't susceptible to a pretty face. Of course he loves himself more than anything else, with power and money running a close second. This could be used to our advantage."

"You're serious, aren't you?" Gil was shocked.

"Oh, absolutely. What you have to do is agree to his plan. Cameron will want us to know of your 'sacrifice' so he'll tell us. We'll then treat you like a traitor."

"You've gone off the deep end. He won't let us go," said Gil.

"I'm counting on it." Alan smiled. "Once we've turned against Shane, Cameron won't think we'll come for her. Quite simple, really."

"Considering you're basing this on the hope we don't get executed first."

"We'll, I'd like to hear your plan, then."

"You will--once I think of one."

The two men each took a pallet while Shannon took the wooden chair and stood on it to peer out the window. At her angle, all she could see was feet and wheels. She then noticed that there were three tumbrels, not just the one as everyone supposed. She watched all the action in the courtyard, not knowing when their turn would come.

A key turned in the lock and all three spun around. The moment they were waiting for had arrived. Cameron strode in and dismissed the gaoler. "So, Shannon, have you changed your mind? This is your last chance. Your names are on the new list."

Shannon faced Gil and Alan who did their best to look puzzled. "Yes, I'll go with you, but you have to keep your part of the deal."

"Deal? What deal? Cameron, what are you scheming now?"

"Nothing, my dear Major. I merely told Shannon that she would go free if she promised to travel with me."

"I always thought the Irish were an underhanded race!" declared Gil.

"He said we would all live. I was doing it for you!"

"Well, we don't need the help of traitors!" Alan turned his back.

"We must go now, Shannon. They'll be leaving soon." Cameron took her arm.

"What about them? You said we'd all be free."

"I said you would be. You must have misunderstood me."

"You liar! I can't believe I trusted you! You used me again to get Alan and Gil!"

"I already had your friends and the only way I could get you to leave them was to let you believe you were saving them."

Shannon was ready to flip him karate-style, but then remembered the time machines had a field about them. With Cameron this close to her, it would be easy to take him with her. She moved her hand slowly towards the disguised machine. Cameron was talking with the gaoler and didn't see.

Gil, however, had been watching and saw her. He motioned to Alan and the two reached for their machines. Shannon looked back at them as if to apologise.

Cameron stopped at the door. "Oh, Mr. Kelly, it was nice knowing you. Adieu." He turned and walked down the stone corridor, pulling Shannon along by the arm. After a few steps, his feet were echoing on metal. "What the hell is going on here?"

Shannon pulled away from him. "Simple: you forgot about the time machine."

"So Kelly and Connor--"

"Are still alive," Alan finished for him. He motioned for two soldiers to take Cameron away.

Gil went to Shannon and gave her a quick hug. "That was quick thinking on your part."

"Yeah. It came upon me fast when I remembered about the field."

Their intermediary, a Government agent known to them only as Jason, came into the room. "I just heard the news. You came back at the right time. There have been some major uprisings in the Outreaches and reports say that it could be Raven. The battleship is ready to go and the Kellys are loaded."

sabots--wooden shoes similar to clogs
.certificates civism--certificates of citizenship
bonnet rouge --"red bonnet" worn by supporters of the revolution
Certainment, ,mon frere--"Certainly, my brother"
citoyens--citizen (citoyenne-feminine)
le mot just--"the right word"
cure --parish priest
Merci, --"thank you"
mes amis--"my friends"
En francais--"In French"
Dauphin--the title of the crown princes of France
Robespierre--dictator of France during the Revolution
Concierge--the prison for those condemned under the Revolution

7. Whirlgig of Time


SPN Dean Writing

Latest Month

July 2018
Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Witold Riedel