Mon, 3 December 2018
In a sun dappled stretch of the Scar, endless as it had always been, a young woman found herself near done with what the dust had to offer. So goes folk in younger years—just aged enough to know and appreciate the finer and subsequent illuminations of ferment—yet still damn fool enough to know nothing else of nothing else.
Music in Book 3, Chapter Thirteen: Cullah - Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Mon, 19 February 2018
The diner was far enough away from work, but nothing felt far enough when there was going to be talk of confidential things. Things some argue better left unexplained, not discussed, kept away from deeper thought—weird things.
Music in Book 3, Chapter Twelve: Cullah - Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0)
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Thu, 1 February 2018
Knucklebones stepped one leathery bare foot into the plastic pool, bright and faded colors both rippling under the liquid. Filth bloomed in arcs from his foot, dirt and barren clouding the chemicals. He wrinkled an ancient looking triangle that sat center on his face, and enshrouded by the giant round disc his hat made, and Knucklebones inhaled deeply.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Eleven: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
King’s office was surprisingly empty for a man of his resources. There was no special reason for it—he was in charge of it all, the whole enterprise, but cared little for the more obvious of comforts or distraction.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Ten: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
We are always starving. It sort of goes with the territory—this being hungry in every odd tick of the day. An empty belly and its degrees of unpleasantness is better than any watch or sundial, and no further calculations on mood need interject.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Nine: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Tom smiled and nodded with the applause, but when the meeting resumed he went right back to staring directly into the center of a donut.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Eight: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Torches had never done Allgood much favor, but that they lit up a question or two in the good populace was useful. Two old branches lit the stench of thoroughfare just before the bar-house, the tips never extinguished thanks to some flammable green-black sludge the fiddle fingers had cooked up for otherwise pursuit. They stunk, and while most folk came to the bar house either by regular pre-dinner appointment or curiosity, they came all the same.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Seven: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Even in that too-bright light of the morning, Abranyah always struggled to wake with it. She preferred to sleep as long as possible, but the sun would eventually prove to be an enemy—fuel for whatever device the barren was planning to kill you with today. This morning was of little difference, but the body rustling through her pack had become lazy, desperate, or both. In any case—far too loud.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Six: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
An otherwise normal day in an otherwise normal life, time as it was. Tom had been fostering a general sense of unease for a while now, yet like a weird sort of depression, he had difficulty pinpointing its origin.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Five: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
The ways a body tends to crave its own undoing is a humanistic riddle that I no longer wish to endure. A short way to speak it, I suppose: my empathy muscles have atrophied.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Four: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Rhamuel kept folks on a spectrum of his own design, the range beginning somewhere around “tolerate,” and ending near “abject avoidance.” Abranyah once asked where the disdain found its origination point, but the tanker would only reply, “Everyone seems to give me a reason.”
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Three: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
This was the kind of fruitless nonsense that permeated The Scar—a seeming irregularity of principle and purpose to things. A body could rub a book to ash in their fingers. They could then take a step and trip over a heaping stack of books showing no more than frayed edges, dust, and that grainy kind of yellow that takes over the page after a while.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter Two: Cullah – Please Bring Me Shelter (CC BY-SA 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Old splinters whistle. Everything across The Scar has aged long past the reek of decay, more so worn, faded, and abused by the transient miscellany that wandered through it over and over and over. There was a weird beauty when the too-bright day went purple as night prepared, no windows left to cover, no reason even if they remained.
Music in Tincture: Book 3, Chapter One: Kai Engel – Paranoia (CC BY-NC 4.0) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
The tanker was always a curiosity for Rachel. “What are you looking for?” she asked. “You said you had an idea?” Arachal was bent over the front seats of his black Mustang and rifling through the glove compartment. “I do. I’m looking for—ah, here we are.” Withdrawing his long frame from the car, he held up a stack of pink sticky-notes in one hand, a black marker with Warrant Sciences embossed on its gray surface in the other. “Pink?” asked Rachel. “I don’t remember pink.” Arachal raised an eyebrow. “What color should they be?”
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Nineteen:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Excerpted from: Revenants of War Much has been mired in speculation of the burnouts, most of it the mealy speech of a drunkard, or on occasion your humble author. People have actually visited the things, for Christ’s sake. Their jagged profile out on the horizon is a curious thing for those of us who wander the scar. It’s easy to get caught up in wondering where the places came from, who built them, and how far removed from those peoples we in the barren actually are. What happened to them might be the next question—the topic derived from a series of otherquestions that have yet to be answered in a culturally accepted way. Most simply agree, whatever.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Eighteen: Earsmack – So This Is How It Ends Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
This wasn’t the first time that something had tried to kill Abranyah. It was, however, the first attempt with a cannon.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Seventeen:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Rachel stepped back into the church and spat on the floor. “Well we’ve got lights again, no thanks to you,” she said. “In the movies when they siphon gas out of a car, they never throw up. Guess who learned a new thing today?”
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Sixteen:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
“I have every confidence in his ability to avoid a well deserved death,” said Abranyah. She only considered the words after she had said them, surprised that she had actually meant them. Marcus shook his head. “If you say so.” They both turned to face Barabbas, the large dog laying on his side in the bright morning sun. He was awake, but more grumpy than usual, as Barabbas simply laid there, huffing and puffing. Occasionally he’d bark, but he was more or less grunting out his displeasure with Salt’s withdrawal from their journey. Yerses was asleep not far from the dog, having taken a liking to the animal, and while it was generally a 50/50 shot if Barabbas liked you, Yerses appeared to come out of the gamble favorably.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Fifteen:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
.2201 I met the most interesting man today. He sleeps at the fire while I write this, another few inches of bulk to my daily carry, but I find the exercise of keeping a journal cathartic. His name is Israfali. He has asked me to call him Fali, and we are very much alike in that we both are harnessed to a tank we know nothing about. We must’ve had the same tattoo artist, though. It is a damned similar thing, our markings.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Fourteen:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
The day had started to stretch on, and there were always more questions. The animals were silent, distanced at the far end of the property near Urcent’s odorous work barn, and everyone else was out in the sun, mired in deep contemplation.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Thirteen:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
With a shriek and a rumble, the black car awoke. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. She tested the clutch pedal and pushed the gear shifter into a variety of patterns, then held her thumb out of the window to Arachal.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Twelve:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Unlike most in the barren, Barabbas was unconditional. Marcus, Yerses, and Devil were still asleep, the trio lying around the smolders of the previous night’s fire—the two decoy fires still within sight, but smoldering the same. Abranyah sat several yards out from the group, watching Barabbas torment Salt, the two a few yards even further, and it was clear that while the horse could not see the dog, she enjoyed the play.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Eleven:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Excerpted from: Revenants of War Let us be practical. Most bodies who wander in and out of their day, they do it while accepting a relative amount of uncertainty. When one cannot remember this-or-that, taking a long mosey across the dust, a day trip putting heel after heel into the world on some sort of mission, one had better bring company along. Even better, paper. I’ve slept under the stars while finishing notes on some particular journey, dozing off in the cool and waking up in the warm. That bright welcome was worn short when I realized I had failed to mark my direction. A longer story, certainly, but not a journey has followed where I haven’t set wide sets of branches in a given direction, an elaborate reminder that, “This way, you horses’s ass, continue in this direction and do better to not-die.”
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Ten:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Vagueness and the inevitable questions it created only frustrated Rachel, and she had decided that her current predicament was simply one spot too many. “Sorry, from up here it sounded like you said ‘your chair’ told you I’d be arriving,” she yelled. The static voice returned. “Well, yeah. I’m not sure if he talks to other people, though. I’ve been alone for quite some time.” “Mm-hm,” shot Rachel. “Well I’m almost convinced. Just ask the fridge or the cabinets what they think, and we’ll be set.”
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Nine:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
None of this felt real. Abranyah ran her palms over her jacket, the same brown duster she’d been wearing since taking on the mantle of sheriff. It was night, sort of, but everything was covered in a wily haze, blurred like she had one pull too many from the ferment bottle. Shapes and corners were punctuated by an aura that faded outwards. Abranyah smelled her own breath by blowing into her cupped palm, but she detected no ferment, no ginger. She didn’t feel off-heels, but everything before her was disconcerting in ways she couldn’t quite understand.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Eight:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
To enjoy fishing, a body didn’t require much by way of supplies—but water was a good start. In two old chairs sat two old men, Eloy and Emmett, twins by birth. The creaky old barn served up a good dose of shade on mornings like that, the ones where everything was just a tad brighter than it felt like it should be. They sat in the quiet shade, listening to the gentle breeze dart through the boards and splinters, each holding a fishing pole—repaired and working like it had originally, like it once did in a time long before this day.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Seven:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
I begin my day with calisthenics, then soon after, I start withdrawing my own blood. Without an accurate view of the sun, my internal clock is sufficient to ensure I awake properly, however, the stop-watch I placed in the adjacent room has proven my biology to be reliable. I find long periods of stretching to affect my moods in a positive way, though I sometimes find myself impatient, and so I will run for around fifteen minutes on the treadmill. It is loud, but operational, and I will admit that I find the inconsistent hum of the thing as a utility in meditation.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Six:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Marcus had always thought of gambling as a fool’s exercise, and this was his usual justification for losing at cards. “That’s three of the same shape and color,” quipped Gordius. “That means I claim the winnings, yes?” Marcus sighed, slapping his cards face-down on the large wooden spindle they were using as a table. “Yeah, it does. Again.”
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Five:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Excerpted from: Revenants of War So much we don’t understand, so much we’re trying to quilt together, so much that we never will. Days, hours, and whatever other increments we fret with, the more we dig out from the dust only serves to confuse our already time addled brains. Some folk will find themselves kicking along to the black-cross only to stub their heels on a remnant from the peoples who used to call our world their own. They’ll look down, hymnal in one hand, a bottle in the other. Two thoughts cross their mind: I hope I’m not late for service… and who in ten shits is Dr. Pepper?
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Four:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
She’d arrived at dark, and it was the men with loaded rifles that cemented Rachel’s distaste for strangers. She had been standing in the open field for almost thirty minutes, she figured, and under this dark of a night it made her uncomfortable. The man she was arguing with was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, assault rifle laid over his calves, and he was spinning an aluminum can around around in his fingers.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Three:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
The boy was long past making his decisions of fate. The green canvas he’d wrapped around his nose and mouth had been chafing for the better part of the day, but he had finally reached town, so the prospect of things to come occupied his thoughts instead. Out in the barren, a body could only lift their heels for so long before they started to wonder if they’d ever see populace. The bright of the day set in early, and few traveled at night, so your thoughts were all that was left for the company. Even with family in tow, it always devolved into silence.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter Two:
Intro music selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Truth found little purchase in a barren sown with lies, and this went doubly so for the Devil. When time turned funny, most folk looked to one another as they struggled through their day-to-day, figuring things out and doing their best to set up four walls for them and theirs. Some had always liked lacing up the shoes of a nomad and wandering across the dust. If you had a purpose, it gave a body something to fix upon, a reason to keep stepping. However, wearing those nomad shoes out in the barren these days, the days after The Whatever, that was makings for more of a finite kind of future. A body needed the company.
Music in Tincture: Book 2, Chapter One:
Intro selected from: PrudHommes by Cobra (avec logo panthère) |
Thu, 1 February 2018
The shiny black motor flew across the barren, and vengeance followed. As Abranyah piloted, Rhamuel sat in the passenger side window well, one palm on the roof of the motor, the other wrapped around the trigger of a long rifle.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Nineteen: Dexter Britain – Telling Stories |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Marcus felt like he was drowning, and his imminent demise tasted of ginger root.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Eighteen: Jahzzar – Whisper |
Thu, 1 February 2018
The sun had left the day, times as they were, and Allgood was set for blood.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Seventeen: Zero V – Notch |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Rachel liked the smell of a wood fire, yet, she felt a bit more uncomfortable when that smell—and the fire—were indoors. She blinked her eyes rapidly, taking in the scent of things, then, when they were good and proper open, she scrambled onto her backside and slid into the corner.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Sixteen: Ilyas Ahmed – Moon Falling |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Excerpted from: Revenants of War An Attempted Guide for Safe Warrant after The Whatever One of the hardest things to reckon out in the wide barren, times as they are, is not only losing folk that you held close, but trying to keep a strangle on the memories they left.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Fifteen: Ilyas Ahmed – Phantom Sky |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Every time he balanced one of the massive tobacco jars between his arthritic fingers, Morris briefly considered escape.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Fourteen: Jahzzar – Joke |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Rhamuel watched the helicopter effortlessly lift into the air, and he briefly pondered how useful such a thing could be out in the barren.
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Thu, 1 February 2018
Stirring, Abranyah woke, and after a small stretch of lip smacking and unfocused blinking, she saw that Rhamuel was covered in blood.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Twelve: Tom Fahy – I, Unfortunately, I Am Russel Huggins |
Thu, 1 February 2018
There was a solemn nature about a place designed to fly folk around the landscape—especially one now long past use—but the way Rhamuel figured, it was just a big graveyard without any bodies.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Eleven: Tom Fahy – Thimbleful of Black |
Thu, 1 February 2018
Excerpted from: Revenants of War An Attempted Guide for Safe Warrant after The Whatever Some think The Whatever came in the form of an all-out piece of military vengeance, someone with their mitts too close to the red button and a predilection for sociopathy.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Ten: Dexter Britain – Slow Motion Strut Version Two |
Thu, 1 February 2018
How he’d awoken in the middle of tall grass probably should’ve been his first question—but instead—Rhamuel simply wanted to know what time it was.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Nine:
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Thu, 1 February 2018
The rumbling engine of the big motor was loud enough to drown out her thoughts, and for once, Abranyah was glad for it.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Eight:
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Thu, 1 February 2018
Excerpted from: Revenants of War An Attempted Guide for Safe Warrant after The Whatever To the forfeit wanderers and other wayward souls living in the scar: This is a poor excuse for a travel guide, confusing at best, but if you’re still around to turn its pages, you’re already used to such nonsense.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Seven:
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Thu, 1 February 2018
They arrived at dark, and it was the men on rooftop with loaded rifles that cemented Rhamuel’s distaste for strangers.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Six:
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Fri, 5 January 2018
Paper football or a rubber-band shootout did well to occupy those lulls in the night, but nothing passed the time quite like a gunshot victim.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Five:
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Thu, 4 January 2018
Rhamuel inhaled deeply through his nose, and pondered the world. They’d made camp under a billboard, and after having been awoken by Rhamuel gently sprinkling sand into his ear, Marcus began to question his own decision making abilities.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Four:
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Wed, 3 January 2018
Old Mother placed her hands in her lap, gestured to the wooden table at her side, and ordered the boy to practice a decision of fate.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Three:
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Tue, 2 January 2018
An old man and a young man sat across from each other in a bar, locking stares with joy and fear, and while the young man had a simple question, the old man would be dead in seven minutes.
Music in Tincture, Chapter Two:
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Mon, 1 January 2018
Grave robbing requires a corpse, so at most, this was all just simple thievery. At least, that’s what Rhamuel liked to tell himself as any proper heir to the abandoned goods he was claiming may have simply had their bones turned to dust by The Whatever.
Music in Tincture, Chapter One:
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