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Declaration: Gibberish Mire (Finale)

~ Blaine Arcade ~ Leave a comment

(estimated reading time: 53 minutes)

Where!?

Bick to Backering. Excerpted thim thes timed companyions further brainded than long-gated Wagonher. Kudd’s thirst chewse on helpupping Bonelyre Pinned und Crowize add just two L-swears askneaded. Butt in thair shees whizn’t arse inclined ass she umed. Backended to Wick snuffered taughaut aghen, lessoned lake treadwaters, downd lake drugging in whine.

Wagonher encompassed a pointy all-in belt, wagnered Knowrth the way to tavendor’s keyp, iffin it haddocked otherplatz on staggburred drunk ledggs. Theire might be founded and won ormbinous avoid: hole filled with punch that used to were the bodd of Hamsandcans Glammount. Asquerying locales how two reconvict themtwain was her gaol, a seedcret to be retilled in Pursuit of grown pease. Continue reading →

Declaration: Gibberish Mire (Part Four)

~ Blaine Arcade ~ Leave a comment

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 13 minutes)

Eviction Declaration

The coerced accord was signed, and in it a plan of attack. What none of them were prepared for was the degree to which mobilization of their military machine would make it clear that the experiment of Pilgrim’s Anchor was coming to an end. Should they succeed, in erasing the Bickyplots’ claims on Pursuitia and its inhabitants, the remaining Founders would then be free to attempt their Second Declaration, intended to return them not only to the American colonies, but to the exact moment they had left so they could resume their plans for a true revolution in a world they at least thought they understood.

If that happened, nothing needed left behind. So it could all come down, apart, and then alight on the wheels of war if it would be of any help in this singular assault. Everyone began to strip the stores, the walls, the cabinets and cupboards. They entered a kind of mania where they couldn’t stand to see anything with hinges closed. Anchor needed to spit up its contents, disgorge its secrets, and splinter inside out to make sure no rusty nail bent away from Bickering Hall. Continue reading →

Declaration: Pilgrim’s Anchor (part two)

~ Blaine Arcade ~ Leave a comment

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 24 minutes)

Invitation to Bickering Hall

On the Occasion of Mister Godswallop’s String-Snapping

An aerial view of the homes and structures of Pilgrim’s Anchor revealed a great many things, the least consequential of which was the only area within the fencing that could contain the temporary tents and stands of the autumn fair, though even light questioning would reveal that too was deeply tied to the political rifts in the marooned colony.

Anchor was a cluster of tight bricks at its core: Independence Hall, the Franklin laboratory, the Jefferson Library and Drafting Hall, as well as the armory and the ink coven. Surrounding them was a loop of empty space, ostensibly a road and walking paths, but functionally an invisible barrier between the Founders and those they had struck a thorny peace with, despite being responsible for their new castaway lives in the first place. Continue reading →

Franklin’s Monster

~ Blaine Arcade ~ 2 Comments

Many know the tale of Frankenstein, but few remember its alternate title ‘The Modern Prometheus’.  Long before its penning someone else was called the ‘Prometheus of modern times’, and it was none other than the American founding father Benjamin Franklin.  This tale supposes that he was the one to engage in the doctor’s dread experiments, and success came through his most famous effort with the key and the kite…

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 17 minutes)

Franklin’s Monster

by

Blaine Arcade

1749

It was said that the birds ate uncommonly tender, but only by the man who had prepared them. In truth most of the preparation was performed by cooks, and they treated the turkeys the same as they would animals killed and handed to them any other way. Roasted. Salted. Anointed with thin golden gravy.

All the while they warily eyed the Leyden jars set out behind their cooking utensils as if they might explode. They looked like bottles from which the infants of molten giants might be fed, the glass lined with metal foil inside and out. There was no lightning hopping between them, but it had to be in there, invisible, for it had been brought forth to instantly end the lives of the seven birds that were to be served to the crowd of thirty that evening.

By this time Mr. Benjamin Franklin was already well-respected as a printing and publishing magnate, and currently served as the postmaster of Philadelphia alongside his joint appointee. Perhaps the job could’ve been handled by one man, but two helped avoid political squabbles, also having the effect of giving Benjamin the spare time needed to indulge his scientific fantasies, which, as the guests of his dinner party were now learning, were frighteningly close to reality. Continue reading →