Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for March, 2010

Perched at the undefinable edge of The Abyss hang several fanciful wooden homes. Rusted pipes and long wires trail out from beneath their sodden clapboard siding. Great square sockets punctuate the finely articulated wood walls, but the windows are all dark and empty – save one at the end of the row. As you close in you see strange scrawling script scars several houses, writing in an enormous hand words in purple and black – “FEMA Sucks!” “Fort Apache Lower 9”. Dangling past the last house on a long steel chain you see what appears to be an enormous dogwood blossom, long grey hairs hanging down into the infernal darkness below.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

The bustling street scape beyond the walls seems normal enough; harried hooded shapes kicking dust plumes across the road, animals racing about always underfoot. The homes a badly placed pile of windows and waddle and dab interspersed with pointed hexagons of rolled and rusting steel. Even the strange two wheeled horseless carts seem to fit in. What unnerves you is the relative silence; no one anywhere is speaking. Even the children stand quietly, silent wraiths hanging at the grim side of their parents. Nor is anyone smiling. And the animals are in fact huge insects, or oddly colored crayfish, or are simply beyond written description. The people they look at you, they look past you and move on. Occasionally you catch a glimpse of colorful fabric – a bright vermillion sash, or the scarlet hue of an embroidered tunic. These people in many different colors they look at you, return your gaze; some even nod and smile knowingly. But they are not of this place, are in fact as alien as you.

Read Full Post »

As you swing low through sulphurous clouds an immense tableau opens before you. Littered with endless ruins the plains spreads out in all directions. Twisted spires of alien towers hang wrecked over dusty promenades of poured granite. Bulbous domiciles perch broken over yawning chasms. Within you espy a jumbled mess, the workings of an ancient machine discarded aeons ago.

Just as the ruins seem to congregate in density they stop. You soar for a time over fallow expanse of dirt, when you see the fortress. Smaller, more compact, less florid in shape and useful in symmetry this doughty plug appears to be made entirely of Adamantite; an incredibly rare and valuable metal. As you close in the walls soar above you, sheets of alien steel hanging in vertical cliffs over the plain. Two dour cloaked figures wielding swords guard a spiraling aperture ten yards across.

Read Full Post »

Travelling through space that is not space; vast distances pass you standing still. Composed neither of distance, or time but memory and impression you hurtle with space, non-space into reaches of self and spirit.. Yet detached. This isn’t travel, but a view, a vision of travel? These words don’t work. Visions don’t explode you, a view doesn’t, reincarnate? And it does, across vast tableaus of blue tears, yellow cries. More like falling in love this travel, and it’s already done.

Read Full Post »