don’t go suckin my cock

First off, shout out to whoever is reading this blog. Views have EXPLODED for some inexplicable reason, which leads me to assume one of three things:

I have a stalker on the loose
I’ve attracted the bots
The world is finally recognizing my genius

Obviously option three is the most sensible explanation. I feel honored and vindicated. It’s nice to know that I haven’t wasted hours of my life and millions of words on what has amounted to nothing more than a vanity project. I should be thanking the readers. But instead I’m gonna thank myself for all the blood, sweat, tears and occasionally jizz I’ve poured into this blog. I really am a once in a generation talent.

To all the aspiring writers out there, I would say keep your head up and work hard. But the truth is that artistic genius is the secret ingredient. You either have it or you don’t. And it’s highly likely that you don’t. So instead of pursuing your dreams, I say that you should give up on them. Find something you’re good at. Get a 9 to 5. Marry that girl who dumped you your junior year and spent several months in county and is now on the mend. Have her pop out a fifth child (first for you). Grow your alcohol dependency and live a shallow life until you die of heart failure at age 62. There’s nothing wrong with mediocrity. I mean, that life sounds pathetic to me but it might be right for you.

But thank you to all for the views 🙏 you all are the real ones

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PART II

In those winter months, the streets of Nasan swelled with the peoples of Nain with all their tongues and customs and they came to hear the wise words of Stephanos, a mysterious preacher of the plains who claimed the touch of Jonny and his message of peace. He stood upon the stoas and he shouted to the hungry denizens that the reign of the nighthawks was nearing and that the Shepherd was to lend a guiding hand. “God opened his heart,” Stephanos proclaimed of the Shepherd. “He told him that the Nain would be born anew and that bellies will be fed and the kingdom declared! The Urbanas shut up its passages to keep the people from fleeing because this is their land! Their kingdom!”

But a rabble rouser from the throng, a woman, shouted out of the masses to challenge him. “But the Shepherd brought the Nighthawks!” she cried out to the evangelist. “There can be no peace as long as he lives!”

Stephanos called her out from the crowd and when she came forth, he recognized her as a woman from the northern steppe. From atop of his stoa, he looked upon her and blessed her. “Jana, why do you challenge me?” he posed.

“Did you walk with Jonny? Did you hear his words? Did you feel his divine lifeblood in his presence?” she countered.

The crowd looked to one another and Stephanos sensed the unease. He raised his arms to calm them and then he turned his loving gaze towards Jana. “Yes, I felt all of that,” he said. “After the tragedy of the Nighthawks, I saw Jonny’s divine lifeblood absent from his earthly form and from this essence, I received his wisdom. He revealed to me that friend and enemy will walk in hand and the divisions that separated us for so long will be trampled upon and that we will receive a guiding light out of the stars and that the ultimate wisdom revealed to Jonny, the Ambassadors, and finally myself will be bestowed upon all of you. But it begins with a simple message of love and forgiveness and opening our hearts to the Shepherd.”

A smattering in the crowd laughed. Jana mocked and spat. “Think what you want,” she declared. “But there will be no rest until the Shepherd dies!”

There was a murmuring in the masses and few left the throng. But Stephanos wooed the remaining with sage words until men with guns stormed the forum and apprehended him. When the crowd saw what was happening, there was an uproar. The preacher tried to calm the simmering maelstrom but the armed men fired into the masses and it quickly dispersed. But in the thundering panic, men and women were trampled underfoot or shot outright and the peace proclaimed by the preachers of Jonny for the city of Nasan was again shattered.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Wade and the girl reached the southern slopes into the Siana River valley under a cloudless and sullen moon. They crossed the rocky rivulets back into the abandoned village of Khiva and when they reached the tavern, the girl took clothes for life in the new world and they held refuge there for two days. Wade plundered through Sheridan’s belongings searching for anything of worth but he found only a few shekels of silver and whiskey bottles and nothing else. He stashed them in his satchel and in the morning they marched several miles eastward toward the river’s edge and when they saw Harar on the southern shore, the ferryman saw them and took them across. The old man remarked on Wade’s silent companion and then informed them of nighthawks screaming southbound days earlier. “I’d watch yourself with a pretty young thing in tow,” the ferryman warned. But Wade dismissed him and headed into town.

Despite coldness drifting from the west, Harar was largely vacant of trappers and prospectors that populated its streets during the wintry months and the Agency office too was deserted. Only the innkeeper kept business afloat and when Wade saw him take respite under the awning, he called out to him.

“If you see Gomez, tell him I’m looking for him!” Wade shouted.

But the innkeeper lifted a pipe to his lips and said nothing. They pushed south. In a day’s travel they reached Tollum’s land and the town was raised and smoldering and the fields of phlox burned. The smoke from the depleted inferno still polluted the air and it followed them down into Milner’s Promised Land where a fresh hell of flames awaited them. The courthouse, the town, families and homes were gone. Only the cratering and mounds of earth remained. Wade wept and furied at the destruction and the girl could not console him.

He took his rifle and marched back to Harar.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Wade feigned ignorance at the girl’s name and Josea held his hands to the prisoner’s face as word of an otherworldly realm slipped through him. “A great child will be born of this woman bearing your seed,” the prophet declared.

“Who is the woman?”

Josea’s hands fell from Wade’s face and he returned from his godly trance. From his seat on high he looked at Wade and proclaimed that he cannot be permitted to enter the Nain. Wade pleaded with him.

“And what of Sheridan?” he asked.

“A blood sacrifice is still demanded of him.”

“Let him go. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Would you permit the woman to take his place?”

“But you said a great child will be born of her.”

“And a great sacrifice it would make.”

Wade spat at him and Josea ordered him away and he was ushered back to the chamber where Sheridan direly awaited news of his fate. Back inside, Wade looked to the ground and he shuffled unable to deliver the prophet’s decree. “They’re completely mad here,” he told his comrade.

“I know that,” said Sheridan. “But will they let us go?”

“The girl and I are permitted to go. You will stay.”

“What does that mean?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“Goddamnit Wade! Be straight with me for once! Are they going to kill me?!”

“Likely Sheridan. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Nothing you can do about it?! You’re sacrificing me to save a piece of poon!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t save me! I hope hell burns hot for you!”

At sunup, the warriors returned Wade’s rifle to him and he and Seia were exiled from the pass and they journeyed southwards towards Khiva. Sheridan was taken from his chamber and was quartered first by hacking off his limbs and while he still breathed his belly was split open and his blood rushed into the troths where the warriors of Josea were cleansed and the bones of the old drifter were cast off to the flames.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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And she kept returning. When the day’s festivities drew to a close and the crisp air bit down she came into his chamber bearing goat meat and olives and wines for Sheridan. The older man drank of the wine and when he was fast asleep the two beloveds undertook their wordless dalliance first by a caress of the hand then a stroke of the cheek. And when he kissed her, she entered behind his chamber and he took from her what could not be given back. In the nights thereafter she took him out of the chamber and away from the prying eyes of the community and in an enclave nestled high in the mountains he would lay with her and look down to the Nain below and consider his escape. He could not convey to her the need for his Remington and buck knife nor plead on behalf of Sheridan. He would return to his prison each night.

They had been in the Yorkin Pass for a fortnight when the priest came to them. The holy man blessed them and told them that the time to take the Nain was near. “You will be a blood sacrifice,” he said.

“Wait a minute,” begged Wade. “I told you before that they have guns. You will need us.”

“And you have been told before that you must be washed of the blood to enter the Nain.”

“Then wash me goddamnit!”

“Your moment has passed. You have been sanctified.”

“I want to speak with Josea!”

“Not even the great prophet can change the will of God.”

“I will speak with him anyway. Give him my last testimony.”

But the priest only blessed them then departed. The next morning Wade was taken out his chamber and escorted to the temple and placed at the feet of Josea. The prophet held open his palm as was the symbol of Jonny and ordered the prisoner to speak.

“You’re making a mistake,” Wade shouted.

“It’s a decree of God. There are no mistakes,” Josea stated without interest.

“You will be slaughtered.”

“So be it.”

“Then why speak with me?”

Josea leaned forward and placed his hand on the head of the prisoner. He closed his eyes as if to receive a message from God and then he revealed to Wade his great revelation.

“Seia,” spoke the prophet.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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And for the next several days at moonlight, the holy man would enter their chambers and chant hymns in the tongue of Nain and place the seal of unity in ochre paints onto their heads and bless the prisoners before departing. On these nights, the priest’s eyes would turn white as lightning and his chantings were like a demonic serenade and when the ceremony was over he would wash his bear skinned cloak in the blood of an unknown creature and drape it over his shoulders.

“Blood will cleanse our land,” the holy man said to Wade.

“Who’s blood?”

“You will see.”

“Ours?”

But the priest departed and said nothing and then the Saranian girl entered the chamber and offered the men unleavened bread and meats and wine. Wade took of the wine and drank and then thanked her and asked of the ring. She heard him but said nothing.

“Do you understand me?” he asked her but she stood bewildered. “I’m Wade,” he said and thumbed his chest.

The girl nodded. “Sela,” she spoke.

“Sela,” Wade repeated. “You are beautiful.” He gestures to her face. “Very beautiful.”

The girl again faintly smiled and bowed and then swiftly left the chamber. Sitting in the back, Sheridan chuckled to himself. “You certainly have a way with the ladies,” he jested towards Wade.

“I have a plan.”

“Oh I know you have a plan. And I can see it’s working.”

“There’s a reason why they’ve kept us alive for this long.”

“Of course. They’re gonna make us a part of their blood ceremony. See? You’re not the only smart one here.”

“Do you see any other way out?”

“I don’t. So keep working your magic.”

After finishing the bread and wine, Sheridan was fast asleep and Wade laid awake listening to the ceaseless chanting and drum beats before it all faded away into the night. And minutes after it did, Sela returned to the chambers and offered him more bread and then she took the dead hermit’s ring and placed it back into his hand.

“No no,” said Wade. He took her by the left hand and slid it onto her finger. “This is for you. Something to remember me by.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Wade returned to the cage and women brought them meats and furred blankets for the nights ahead. Sheridan remained cowed under the coverings and caked in dried blood with his hands shaking at the faintest echo of chanting monks and the hollering of warriors. Not wanting to stay silent, Wade informed Sheridan of his visit to the prophet.

“Will he let us go?” asked the older man.

“I don’t know,” said Wade.

“Then what will happen to us?”

“I can’t say.”

Sheridan gnawed on charred deer meat and drank water while Wade stayed seated with back towards his fellow prisoner. “What is this place? What are they doing here?” Sheridan asked.

“I reckon they’re hiding from the nighthawks.”

“And what of Josea?”

“He’s a charlatan.”

“Of course he’s a charlatan! I mean what’s his angle?”

“What’s the angle of any charlatan? He claims he sees visions of Jonny. That’s what brought him up here.”

“But we can’t be far from the Nain.”

“We ain’t. It can be seen from Josea’s temple.”

“Is that what you’re aiming for? An escape?”

“What other option we got?”

Another young woman of browned skin and dark hair flowing over her exposed breasts brought the night’s food wrapped in hide cloth and she handed it to Wade. Wade took it and asked her her name but the girl meekly looked down and didn’t answer. Before she left, Wade called for her. The girl turned around and he reached into his pocket to pull out the ring taken from the hermit and he offered it to her. She cautiously approached the cage and reached out her hand. Wade placed it into her palm and he clasped her fingers into a fist and he held it. “Thank you for the food,” he told her. She briefly made eye contact and flashed a faint smile then departed.

“Where do you think she came from?” asked Wade.

“I can’t say for certain,” said Sheridan. “Possibly from the Sanalands to the west.”

“Think she speaks English?”

“Not a chance.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Nestled in the Yorkin Pass, an ancient complex to an unknown god was carved out of tanned stone and mounted thousands of feet in the cool and thinned out air of the Urbanas Mountains. This imposing structure housed the so called Temple of Josea and it faced north to the land of Nain. The holy man and Wade ascended the crumbling and crack ridden steps towards the sanctified temple and they were greeted by a battery of naked soldiers with cocks sheathed in bronze and holding spears of chromium points. The holy man signaled to the soldiers and the men unfastened the doors and ushered Wade inside. Josea the man, flanked by his warriors, was cloaked in royal purple but appeared as no king. He stood contemplatively like a wise sage away from his visitors and the holy man instructed Wade to kneel and he complied.

Returning to his stately form, the prophet looked upon Wade. “Speak,” he ordered him.

“I’m a representative of the Milner Corporation passing through here to meet with the Shepherd,” Wade stated.

“Did you not know that this pass was occupied by the people of Jonny?”

“How was I supposed to know that? You people weren’t here a few years ago. This was a dead land used only by prospectors and foragers passing through.”

Josea nodded. “Aye. But did you not hear the Great One speak? He granted us this land by holy decree.”

“The Great One? You mean Jonny?”

“Aye.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t follow your legends.”

“It’s no legend. He walked among us and blessed the poor and the righteous. He taught us that the reign of the nighthawks will end and that the Kingdom of God will be upon us.”

“Yet he was killed by the nighthawks.”

Josea closed his eyes as if to speak in a trance and he raised his hands to give Wade a mighty revelation. “Jonny revealed to me in his heavenly form that he will return to bring about his kingdom. The destructive power of the nighthawks will be used against his enemies and righteousness will be restored.”

“Yes I’ve heard that one before. So you’re a prophet?”

“So you say.”

“Are prophets always this cagey?”

“It is not upon me to declare myself a prophet. I receive visions and interpret them to the followers.”

“And that’s how you got this temple?”

“It’s for the glorification of Jonny.”

Wade laughed and got off his knees. After dusting off his dirtied trousers, he dropped the pretensions and looked Josea in the eye. “I don’t care what you’re doing here,” he told the prophet. “If you think the nighthawks can’t reach you in these mountains then you’re dead wrong. It’s only a matter of time before the corporations, probably the Shepherd, come through here and take this pass. You can release me or you can kill me. But just know that I won’t be joining this ridiculous circus.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Blackness covered the Yorkin Pass and the naked foot soldiers marched single file with their two prisoners towards the sounds of a primordial dance where fire irradiated through the valley and shadows pranced like demons against the rocks while bare chested women and throngs of gyrating bodies beat their heads with stones to the vibrations of goat skinned drums. And when the festivity reached a nauseating pitch, the carcass of the warrior killed by Wade was dragged through the crowd and placed upon a gallow where Sheridan was stripped naked and placed underneath and the carcass was split open and blood showered over him like a torrential rain. They took Sheridan’s rifle. They removed the buck knife from the barrel and handed the edged weapon to Wade. A holy man decked in garish trinkets of human ears and scalps blessed the preceding and Wade awaited his fate while standing around the bonfire of corpses. The crowd quieted as a boy of no more than fifteen and armed with only a spear approached the glowing blaze and looked upon the prisoner. Wade looked back. The boy lunged towards him and he easily parried the charge. While behind his attacker, Wade waved the spear from the boy’s hands and had the knife to his throat. They tussled before he threw the boy into the fire and the boy briefly escaped the inferno with singed skin and lurched towards the spear. Wade grabbed him again and held his head into the blaze. With his hair alight, the crown sat quietly while the flames engulfed the boy. The victorious prisoner threw the knife to the ground and spoke to the masses.

“I demand to speak to Josea,” he said.

The holy man was silent as warriors took up Wade and Sheridan and put them away from the crowd. Sheridan wept and still dressed only in blood, he cowarded underneath a bear skinned cloth and away from the eyes of Wade. Wade stood stonefaced towards the entrance of the cage and the two men said nothing to each other. Then the sun dawned upon the valley and neither slept. The holy man reappeared bearing water and deer meat and Wade took the water and drank. “Are you Josea?” he asked the man.

The priest looked upon the prisoner and waved his arms. “Who are you to come into this valley and kill one of our own and then demand to be in the presence of our sanctified one?”

“Cut the bullshit,” shouted Wade. “I am a representative of the Milner Corporation and if you kill me then men will descend into this valley and put an end to this madness. So if you know what’s good for you, you will take me to Josea.”

“We don’t fear the corporations,” the priest said defiantly.

“Then you’re a fool. They have guns. You only have spears.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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The naked warrior was on the ground with the corner of his skull blown open then Wade and Sheridan covered their noses and dragged his body out of sight. They hastily covered him with rocks and dirt and Sheridan pulled out his canteen to wash the blood from his hands. “There was a better way to handle that,” he told Wade.

“How so? By stripping naked and getting washed in the blood?”

“That’s preferable to getting hunted down. They surely heard that rifle shot.”

“Probably so. Is there another way around the pass? Perhaps along that ridge?”

Wade pointed to the east and Sheridan looked in that direction. He shook his head and drank from the canteen. “Maybe,” said Sheridan, “but they probably have this entire valley covered.”

Wade stood up from where he knelt and dusted away the dirt from his knees. “Well, then we should move fast. They’re likely moving in the direction of the shot. We should be out of this valley before they figure out what’s going on.”

Sheridan twisted the cap back on his canteen and they grabbed their rifles and trekked up the meager paths carved into the boulders until they were on top of the ridge overlooking the crevice below. Sheridan had the buck knife ready and attached to the end of his rifle as a bayonet while Wade held the Remington to his hip. They made a quick pace along the ridge and kept a heavy eye in all directions but no naked warrior opposed them. None appeared at all.

“Maybe they didn’t hear the shot,” Wade uttered.

Miles in and a faint echo of an ancient chant was heard. “Did you hear that?” asked Sheridan.

“I ain’t worried until I see something.”

As they descended the ridge down to the flatter plain beneath, Sheridan breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re almost out of it,” he said. Then a six foot spear flew from atop and burrowed into Sheridan’s right thigh and as he went to the ground, Wade fired a single round towards the ledge.

“Christ!” Sheridan shouted in agonizing pain.

Wade placed his foot on the spear to break and shorten it and after he did, he threw Sheridan’s arm around his shoulders. “It’s too late!” the wounded man cried. And it was. A dozen blood soaked warriors appeared before them like ghosts from the ether and had them surrounded. Wade dropped the rifle to his side and the leader approached him and looked upon him with pugnacious eyes.

“Ah psh NEE!” the warrior cried in an alien tongue and his breath reeked of a putrid grave. Two more naked warriors flanked the men on both sides and took them by the arms.

TO BE CONTINUED…