Vengeance, My Heart is a work of serialized fiction. Jump to key story links to read earlier content.
The ultramarine-eyed stranger closed her eyes and breathed in, whether to garner courage or in regret for making such a promise, the pilgrim couldn’t decide. Perhaps she did it to center herself. It was not his place to know these things — he didn’t want to know. But he would not refuse such a promise of assistance, one normally reserved for those in a higher strata than he, as it had been sworn.
The stranger turned on her heel and marched towards the gaping black mouth of the ramshackle remains. Six dust-scratched eyes followed her passage as she stepped from gloam to gloom, the pilgrim’s daughter whispering a prayer that was only occasionally broken by the serpent’s kiss of sand over sand.
person who did something bad a long, long, time ago
I regretted telling my therapist about the lucky underwear. Sure, it brings me luck. You know what I mean. They’re good for increasing my chances at winning at meat raffles, make it easier to score some digits from the ladies at the bar, helps on loot raids with my guild… that kind of luck. They aren’t my shield, for chrissake. They just make me lucky.
But she insisted I use them for therapy. Ugh.
“Are you wearing your lucky underwear today, Steve?” she asked at the far end of the strip mall where she had asked me to meet her.
exsanguinated, a bone bag tattooed by the colony scribe drained of everything while pale hands claw out for more— to centerpiece at the feast for all whores
to the shifting flames we cast the long stares myriad futures flicker, dancing into the fire for that sacred kiss
A rune poem, based on an Elder Futhark rune selected at random.
Today’s rune is wunjo, which is translated as “joy” and has been interpreted in both the earthly sense as well as in spiritual ecstasy. It has been associated with healing (emotional, mental and interpersonal) and some sources connect the rune to luck, the act of making a wish, or applied will. Wunjo can also be the inspiration for creativity.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
Vengeance, My Heart is a work of serialized fiction. Jump to key story links to read earlier content.
It came as a dervish, rising up from the alkali flats bathed in a wash of perpetual twilight; at first a flea on the horizon and growing larger as it drew closer. The shape was largely black with a touch of rich burgundy and loose cloth flapping in the wind, tassels dancing as gravity pulled downward against the wind. The air played tricks with sound, carrying over the sands a firm, but steady crunch of hooves grinding lime on hard pan.
It would be foolish to hail the newcomer, to wish the visitor well, for thieves walked these lands. The pilgrim and his kin had been warned about this, as they had been warned about the ruins near the aged well by which they sojourned. He didn’t issue a command to hide, for there was no place to hide in this barren place save for the well itself, which might be worse than the fluttering black ghost moving their direction on a pale horse. The pilgrim hoped the outrider would see their threadbare robes and worn, twisted-hemp sandals and understand it was custom for pilgrims to give most of their possessions away before their journey. He uttered a whispered curse for not waiting until the next caravan of faithful made the trek. He would have had the benefit of safety in numbers and then perhaps his son—
He let that thought go. What was done was done and wishing for something else was clinging to another illusion to shed when they reached Absalom. If — he reminded himself, not when — they arrived. If they reached the oasis city of this wretched land. He had already begun the process of removing his son from memory.
the slow hips shift side on side to low roads carry river birch clings stone all wildflower the air as thistles pop amethyst against granite grey
A poem prompted by a randomly selected Elder Futhark rune.
Today’s rune is raido, which has been translated as “ride” and the implied “journey”. This may be spatial and literal in practice (a physical journey), or it may be more figurative (an inner/shamanic journey, i.e., útiseta). The rune is associated with cyclic motion and the movement of the sun. Some consider the journey represented by raido to be that of returning.
Please visit my Elder Futhark pages at sceadugenga.com for additional interpretations of the runes based on multiple references and personal reflection.
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
— William Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus
Drifter coming in Never touching down, never leaving ground A twilight world in which we roam Still we don’t belong — Drift on.
— Siouxsie and the Banshees, Drifter
The first episode of new serialized gothic western by Michael Raven, Vengeance, My Heart, begins tomorrow.
Full episodes will typically span three to four posts. New story posts will drop approximately three times a week at 18:00 GMT (Noon CST/11:00 CDT); drop days may vary initially until an achievable rhythm can be established.
