Declaration: Pilgrim’s Anchor (finale)

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 37 minutes)

Correspondence for Proposed Prisoner Exchange

More weeks had passed, Fool’s Gold Floyd as diligent a calendar as his many other functions. The date was December 11th, which meant the Stoking Dramas were now just three days away. After that would come the first blizzard of Pursuitia’s aggressive winter, blanketing the ground in penetrating permafrost that could claim all a man’s toes before he could take as many steps.

If the blizzard came and Blueberry was still incarcerated then she would be riding out the entire winter with the Bickyplots, who would themselves not dare to leave Bickering Hall the entire time but for the briefest and most vital of errands. The fiends would grow bored, then cajole Chattelpool into breaking out his favorite pet for them to play games with in the torture dungeon-cum-gaming hall they undoubtedly possessed. Continue reading

Declaration: Pilgrim’s Anchor (part four)

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 7 minutes)

Log of Two Hundred and Forty some Severed Personalities

The company’s retreat could’ve been five times as raucous, the giant Franklin kite could’ve struck shrieking sharpsychords instead of Bickyplots, and Private Blueberry still would not have heard it. Partly this was sheer focus, the narrowing of her perception so that it excluded everything from the bigger battle to the breath whistling out her own nose, so that all she heard was the pitter-thump-patter and scrabbling tooth scratching of Bludgehaven’s heart across the wooden floors deep within Bickering Hall.

Also contributing was the labyrinth of chambers, causing even sound to lose its way. Half the rooms had purposes she couldn’t guess. Interior balconies overlooking nothing. Hot coal floors with uneven rake marks. A sauna of yellow clouds and what might have been chunks of vegetables floating through them, suggesting it was a gas of soup not water. Doors boarded up, painted over, clutter piled in front, terrible, angry, living noises piled behind. Continue reading

Declaration: Pilgrim’s Anchor (part three)

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 27 minutes)

The Rules for a Trip to Jerusalem

Independence Hall was locked tight for several days, nary a Founder coming or going, with many of the young staying in private rooms or the barracks left with nothing to do but keep their ear to the wall, pointlessly so considering that the rooms in which those men debated and drafted were so heavily posted with their own authority that no sound could escape them.

What they debated was without question. How would the mission plan be affected by this unexpected invitation to the very same event they might attempt to infiltrate? Could they afford to let the opportunity simply pass by? And whether or not he would be accompanied by a full company of soldiers, would a Founder be in attendance? Continue reading

Declaration: Pilgrim’s Anchor (part two)

(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

Declaration: Pilgrim’s Anchor (part one)

The signing of the United States Declaration of Independence… has gone awry!  As it so happens the declaration was too powerfully worded, and effectively declared independence from the realm of Earth.  The signing founders, and those legally considered their property, and a Native American tribe roped in as well thanks to an old treaty, have been transported to a strange new land where trees write upon their own leaves and owl-eyed worms march about in the shapes of men.

Twenty years on the Founders are desperate to return to the war they never started, and have enlisted their mixed-heritage children as an army to help them fight the Bickyplots: thirteen shambling horrors with colonial inspirations of their own.  Here the written word is magic, and a new declaration might undo everything, but what of the children who have fought and journaled so hard to build their own lives?  Find out in this, the first of the Declaration duology.

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 16 minutes)

(estimated reading time for entire novel: 6 hours)

pilgrimsanchorcover

Declaration

Pilgrim’s Anchor

by

Blaine Arcade

From the Unintended Declaration of Independence from the Earth

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

From the Pilgrim’s Anchor Charter

Just as man has found himself on foreign shores and learned of their alien men, so too can he be faced with aliened and remote concepts. Every mind can thus be unfurled and read as a map, however daunting traversal may threaten itself to be through unfamiliar rivers and mountain ranges.

So it is that we find ourselves exploring a new mind, and in so doing disturbing its daily thought, bringing to it nightmares in dream and daylight alike. In order to found a tranquil mutual existence where respect bridges the gap of continental minds we must explore, and disturb, and trespass. All is so done in the earnest hope that peoples differing can be made to understand each other.

Here it is declared, and taken as fated and patient understanding, that any strife thus caused cannot be held in accounts vengeful, brought as a grievance of compounded cultural interest only to those who have adjusted to the course of history. —That where a pilgrim has dropped anchor is not where he has dealt injury, and that a world discovered is a world claimed, and that all living things are entitled to learn, disturb, and sow as they test the boundaries of freedom. Continue reading

Heirs of Cain: Venus in Peril

Severin Molochi is in love with a goddess.  She’s not the kind found in a church, or that you can take with you to church for that matter.  She’s of the old, muddy, animal line of Cain: those who gained power in the world’s first murder.  Just as Severin and his goddess Wanda are settling in their new home, setting up her future dominion, her jealous siblings come calling, but they’re not after her.  They want every gods’ most valuable asset, the mortal chosen as the conduit between them and the people, who in this case happens to share her bed.

Heirs of Cain, a gothic horror fantasy erotic thriller novelette series, continues here.

(estimated reading time: 1 hour, 31 minutes)

Heirs of Cain

Venus in Peril

What had until recently been a long and tall storage shed for mining equipment and explosives was now shrouded in mystery and wonder, cloaked inside and out with black curtains, doors thrown open to entice the townsfolk into its dim stalls, themselves converted to show off peculiar creatures and abominations of an intellectual nature.

“Welcome one and all, to Severin’s Hall of Incredible Beasts! Yes, this way, do keep walking, I want everyone inside and hearing me. There will be plenty of time to meet them all and learn for yourself what they have known for as long as they can remember.

Up first we have the genius rabbit, generously lent to us by her owner. She is called Sugarbowl because she is so very sweet. Please Sugarbowl, demonstrate for us. What is… five plus eleven?” Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: Vito the Wisp

Author’s Note:  This flash fiction story was written based on a prompt provided by NathalieErienne during a livestream.  I hereby transfer all story rights to them, with the caveat that it remain posted on this blog.  If you would like your own story, stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade during one of my streams and I’ll write it for you live!

Prompt: On a station orbiting a gas giant, what might happen if a seemingly harmless virus were to activate a long dormant gene from a person’s fey ancestry, and cause a possible clash of Earth magics in the sterility of a station near the edge of the solar system?

All he had for her was a subdermal injector filled with ten different kinds of sedative, all selected at random, because the entire research and medical team on the orbiter Djinn Miner 5 was now just throwing darts at the wall in terms of figuring out how to stop her. Briefly Jaxon considered tossing the injector in much the same fashion, but Katiga would elude it effortlessly, and they were already low on supplies. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: Both Built

Author’s Note:  This flash fiction story was written based on a prompt provided by tyrooneus_wigglebottomus during a livestream.  I hereby transfer all story rights to them, with the caveat that it remain posted on this blog.  If you would like your own story, stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade during one of my streams and I’ll write it for you live!

Prompt: An old robot created by a mad scientist becomes sentient.

What a day it was for the drifting remains of the Epsilon Hyena Station, the name of which was long faded, or scratched off, across the entirety of its hide, deep tissues, and super-titanium bones. As the paint flaked the name changed in equal measure, though it slowed as the intelligences took off, rocket by rocket, to less cloyingly green pastures.

First shortened to Hyena Station, the name then became the The Lost Dot, then the Garbage Dot, then a bar code in systems now foreign, and now, if it was referenced at all, perhaps as just a glitch in a digital map, it was called the Sundered Green. Called that by the first intelligence to arrive in over three hundred years, the first to see that the crops that used to feed its billion residents at its height had reached a new height of their own, becoming a diverse jungle across the entirety of the artificial moon. Continue reading

Mysterious Americana Catalog: ‘Mobster Pot’

M-A-C (17): ‘Mobster Pot’

Category: whatsit

Collection Date: (REDACTED), 2011

Collection Location: (REDACTED), Maine

Collection Report: It took three instances of anomalous behavior for the owner of the ‘mobster pot’ to become suspicious and report it to the authorities. Its form is that of an ordinary lobster pot, manufactured some fifty years prior, showing heavy rust but no structural issues. Its owner had it in continuous use off the same stretch of coast for fifteen years.

The first sign of anything amiss occurred when it was brought up and a human big toe was found in the pincers of one of the trapped lobsters. The digit appeared fresh, and so was put on ice, but too close to some of the catch, resulting in it being consumed before they reached shore.

The incident was reported and the lobster men went back to business as usual. However, three weeks later, an elbow was brought up confined to the same pot, this time without any lobsters present to have carried it. It bore a distinctive tattoo of a (REDACTED) riding a (REDACTED) while (REDACTED), which was later tied to the recent missing person case of (REDACTED).

By the third incident the pot was near to bursting with parts of various bodies, most eventually tied to active missing persons cases. Never was anything larger than an entire bicep found, but they varied in the extreme, from eyeballs and tongues to lungs and the skin off someone’s back.

Fearing what might happen if it was sent down again, the lobster men took a vote, and among the voters was someone who had recently become familiar with the Catalog, who then convinced a majority of the others to turn it over to us rather than the police.

Current Collector: Maude Sirento, senior rank

Notes from Collector: “It was probably always strange, but now those waters are overfished. It doesn’t have anything else to dredge up.”

Current Status: active

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Mysterious Americana Catalog: ‘Red Cent Flattener’

M-A-C (16): ‘Red Cent Flattener’

Category: doohickey

Collection Date: (REDACTED), 1976

Collection Location: (REDACTED), Oklahoma

Collection Report: M-A-C (16) was discovered indirectly, through a suspicious increase in recruitment at a U.S. Army recruitment office. One of our collectors took in several of these recruits himself, reporting that the men, always younger than 25, either attempted to ‘pay’ for their own recruitment or engage in a coin flip wager with him, always using an unusual coin.

Of the initial twelve turned over to the Catalog, all were pennies flattened into a new design by a novelty coin-flattening machine. They were bordered with shooting stars and eagle talons on the bottom, and each bore an inscription; however the inscription, despite a common goal, was different each time.

Paired with a unique insult was an order to join a branch of the United States military, usually the army or navy. Examples include: [MAC-16-3: ‘You’re nothing but an empty ice cream cone. Go let the navy scoop some character into you!’], [MAC-16-8: ‘You’re a son of a bitch too stupid to play fetch, so go fetch yourself an army recruitment form!’], and [MAC-16-11: ‘You’re so spineless that when I ordered you to join the army, you’d already done it!’]

Through questioning of the temporarily obedient recruits, the coins were traced to a seasonal fireworks store off Highway (REDACTED). In its darkest recesses there stood an American flag-paneled novelty penny flattening machine. In exchange for 75 cents, 76 counting the penny, it returned the insulting and recruiting tokens with an obnoxious bell jingle that could not be heard beyond the aisle despite its ear-splitting volume.

Though the messages had an immature and simplistic nature, the recipient, upon handling the coin, often became obsessed with obeying, at least until they were officially recruited. Regrets usually follow.

Typically such an item, even with the language element, would be classified as a whatsit, but M-A-C (16) demonstrated a degree of intelligence when collectors attempted extraction by spitting out a coin directly onto exposed skin and recruiting one of our staff with the message: ‘Every cent is red to a commie! Defend your country!’

The only injury in the resulting scuffle was caused by the unbalanced machine falling on an ankle. The exposed collector returned to normal after the machine had left the building.

Current Collector: Phillips ‘don’t you f***ing redact me’ Phillips-Head, senior rank

Notes from Collector: “All you’ve gotta do is go toe to f***ing toe with it, then it can’t recruit you. It only gets the weak-minded and I’m the smartest f***ing bastard since the bicentennial. It calls your mother a f***ing whore, and you call its mother a f***ing whore right back, whether machines got mothers or not.”

Current Status: active

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