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i'm so sorry for being the typical "erm akshually" German coming to nitpick. but. I'm going to nitpick (and hope it's helpful)
2. Erdreich - not wrong! But: "Erde" means "earth, and "Reich" means something like "kingdom" (as in Tierreich - animal kingdom) and kind of encompasses the ground as a whole I'd say. And I think that makes it sound even more beautiful :)
11. Leichtigkeit - yes, but also "easyness", like when a task is easy, you do it with Leichtigkeit (imo Leichtigkeit is used much more often with the "easy" sense than the "light" sense. Leicht means both light (as in not heavy) and easy)
13. Niederschlagsmenge - "rainfall" (or any other kind of form of water that comes from the sky, including snow and hail) is "Niederschlag". NiederschlagsMENGE is the AMOUNT of rainfall.
18. Tohuwabohu - this one is used in German, but it's not a really German word. It comes from Hebrew!
Powdered herbs are most easily taken as capsules but can be sprinkled on food or taken with water.
Externally, they can be applied as a dusting powder to the skin or mixed with tinctures as a poultice.
COMPRESSES & LOTIONS
Lotions are water-based herbal preparations such as infusions, decoctions, or diluted tinctures that are used to bathe inflamed or irritated skin.
Compresses are cloths soaked in a lotion and held against the skin.
Both are simple ways to use herbs externally and can be very effective in relieving swelling, bruising, and pain, soothing inflammation and headaches, and cooling fevers.
CREAMS
Making a cream involves combining oil or fat and water in an emulsion. If the process is rushed, the oil and water may separate.
Unlike ointments, creams blend with the skin and have the advantage of being cooling and soothing while at the same time allowing the skin to breathe and sweat naturally.
They can, however, deteriorate quite quickly and are best stored in dark, airtight jars in a refrigerator.
DECOCTIONS
Roots, bark, twigs, and berries usually require a more forceful treatment than leaves or flowers to extract their medicinal constituents. A decoction involves simmering these tougher parts in boiling water.
Fresh or dried plant material may be used and should be cut or broken into small pieces before decocting. Like infusions, decoctions can be taken hot or cold.
INFUSED OILS
Infusing an herb in oil allows its active, fat-soluble ingredients to be extracted; hot infused oils are simmered, while cold infused oils are heated naturally by the sun.
Both types of oil can be used externally as massage oils or added to creams and ointments.
Infused oil should not be confused with essential oil, which is an active constituent naturally present in a plant and has specific medicinal properties and a distinct aroma.
Essential oil may be added to an infused oil to increase its medicinal efficacy
INFUSIONS
An infusion is the simplest way to prepare the more delicate aerial parts of plants, especially leaves and flowers, for use as a medicine or as a revitalizing or relaxing drink.
It is made in a similar way to tea, using either a single herb or a combination of herbs, and may be drunk hot or cold.
OINTMENTS
Ointments contain oils or fats heated with herbs and, unlike creams, contain no water. As a result, ointments form a separate layer on the surface of the skin.
They protect against injury or inflammation of damaged skin and carry active medicinal constituents, such as essential oils, to the affected area.
Useful in conditions such as hemorrhoids or where protection is needed from moisture, as in chapped lips and diaper rash.
POULTICES
A poultice is a mixture of fresh, dried, or powdered herbs that is applied to an affected area.
Used to ease nerve or muscle pains, sprains, or broken bones, and to draw pus from infected wounds, ulcers, or boils.
SYRUPS
Honey and unrefined sugar are effective preservatives.
Can be combined with infusions or decoctions to make syrups and cordials.
They have the additional benefit of having a soothing action, and therefore make a perfect vehicle for cough mixtures as well as relieving sore throats.
With their sweet taste, syrups can disguise the taste of unpalatable herbs and are therefore greatly appreciated by children.
TINCTURES
Tinctures are made by soaking an herb in alcohol. This encourages the active plant constituents to dissolve, giving tinctures a relatively stronger action than infusions or decoctions.
They are convenient to use and last up to 2 years.
Tinctures can be made using a jug and a jelly bag, instead of a wine press. Although mainly used in European, American, and Australian herbal medicine, tinctures play a part in most herbal traditions.
TONIC WINES
Tonic wines are an agreeable way to take strengthening and tonic herbs to increase vitality and improve digestion.
Neither strictly medicinal, nor simply appealing to the palate, they are easy to prepare at home.
Made by steeping tonic herbs in red or white wine for several weeks.
OTHER PREPARATIONS
Steam Inhalations
Steam inhalations are an effective way to clear congestion and relieve sinusitis, hay fever, and bronchial asthma.
The combination of steam and antiseptic ingredients clears the airways throughout the respiratory system.
Gargles & Mouthwashes
Gargles and mouthwashes usually contain astringent herbs, which tighten the mucous membranes of the mouth and throat.
As gargles and mouthwashes are made from infusions, decoctions, or diluted tinctures, they can generally be swallowed for internal treatment. Ensure you do not exceed the daily internal dose of an herb.
Pessaries & Suppositories
Pessaries and suppositories are waxy pellets containing essential oil or fine powder.
They are used when oral medicine is likely to be broken down during digestion before reaching its intended site.
Pessaries are inserted into the vagina and suppositories into the anus, where they melt at body temperature.
The herb is quickly absorbed into the bloodstream, providing fast relief. It is best to buy ready-made suppositories.
Essential Oils
Essential oils can be used in massage to soothe minor aches and pains.
Before use, they should be diluted with a carrier oil as they can irritate the skin.
Essential oils deteriorate rapidly after dilution, so it is best to mix small quantities as you need them.
Baths & Skin Washes
Herbal baths and skin washes can relieve many conditions, including aching limbs and stuffy sinuses.
They are made from diluted essential oils or infusions.
Eyebaths soothe sore, inflamed, or irritated eyes.
Cold Macerations
Heat destroys the active constituents of some herbs.
Thus, a cold maceration might be more appropriate than a decoction.
A v!Legundo webweave for @thehumandictionary! Congrats on hitting your goal, happy holidays, and happy new year!
"We are going to throttle each other" by Anna Swirszcznska (transl. Czeslaw Milosz & Leonard Nathan), "Strange Decanters" by Etienne Mereau, Lobotomy drawing, Tintern Abbey by Carl Gustav Carus, Memento Mori face, you are changing, Glasses on papers, "go out there & live" by @literaryvein, bloody embroidery, Herbst by Karl Wiener, Portrait Study by Thomas La Farge, The Prisoner by Mykola Yaroshenko, Untitled by Roberto Diaz, "Bharti Kher—Confess (2010)" by Rochelle Hurt, "Work Ethic" by Heidi Williamson, "Self-Portrait as the Mountain" by Xin Qiji (transl. Shangyang Fang), "Instructions for Building Your First Time Machine" by T.S. Leonard, "Your Village" by Elana Bell, "Postlude" by Rita Dove, "September Affirmation (Don't Be Afraid)" by Keaton St. James, lungs
I just write and then try to make sense of it; so in summary, not even I know what’s up with Eliana, hopefully one of you do.
Please ignore the plothole of Scramm being from Oklahoma and Cathy living in Arizona, I’ll think of an explanation later.
TW: Nudity for the first picture, Dacryphilia, Dry humping, death, more death, hypersexuality (maybe??), Dallas Dallas Dallas my fav who likes flirting w/ married men, tell me if I need to add more
My favorite headcanon I’ve given myself for this au is that Ray hates Elia, but in the way where he thinks she’s just some fucking pretentious weirdo and he hates talking to her
Fic Masterlist
Chapter 7 - Eliana
"I like to think I'm quite an engaging bloke, really.
People I meet consider I'm schizophrenic just
because I'm completely different offscreen than I
am before the cameras..."
-Nicholas Parsons
Sale of the Century (British version)
Scramm, 39, was the only married one, at least out of the boys. Scramm was moose of a guy, with a moon face and crew cut. He was muscled like a dream, not Elia’s per se, but certainly somebody’s. That somebody was specifically Dallas.
“So, Mr. Scramm - Could I call you Anthony?” Dallas said in an overdone southern accent, though Scramm didn’t seem to mind, looking at the early morning sun with pleasure; nodding at her serenely. “What’s it like down south? I’ve never been; but you’ve been there, I can tell.” She accented the innuendo with a wink.
Somehow (though it wasn’t that surprising considering his dimness) Scramm didn’t get it, or he did but politely ignored it. “It’s quite nice, Miss, especially west; in Tulsa.”
“That’s where you from?” She grinned, “Sounds awfully… hot, Tulsa does.”
Roxy whispered over to her, “It’s ‘Tulsa sounds awfully hot’ —“
“shut the fuck up..” Dallas whispered quickly.
“— Dumbass.”
The wind was lighter than yesterday, far cooler too, like a gentle reminder that even nature could take pity on you. Though the world looked far different today, much different from how it felt; the world was a pallid hazy dream-like thing now, though it felt almost normal.
At some point it — the incessant innuendo —started getting embarrassing, but thankfully Woods interrupted instead of Elia, “Hey? An-Anth-Andy? Scramm? Don’t you got a wife?”
Scramm visibly brightened, “Yeah! I do!” Dallas glared at Angela, “Her name’s Cathy! She’s a real peach!”
It was sweet, how much he seemed to adore his Cathy, “Really?” Elia asked, bemused.
“Yep! I dropped out of school when I was fourteen. There was no point to it, not for me. I wasn't no troublemaker, just not able to make grades. And our history teacher read us an article about how schools are over-populated. So I figured why not let somebody who can learn sit in, and I'll get down to business. I wanted to marry Cathy anyway.”
"How old were you?" Woods asked, her voice filled with the most emotion she’d seemingly felt the whole walk, which honestly wasn’t saying much.
They were passing through another small town, and the sidewalks were lined with signs and spectators. Already the watchers were in another world, not related to any of them in any way. They might have been behind a thick plate-glass shield.
"Fifteen," Scramm answered. He scratched his chin, which was blue with beard stubble.
"No one tried to talk you out of it?"
"There was a guidance counselor at school, he gave me a lot of shit about sticking with it and not being a ditch digger, but he had more important things to do besides keep me in school. I guess you could say he gave me the soft sell. Besides, somebody has to dig ditches, right?" He waved enthusiastically at a group of small girls who were going through a spastic cheerleader routine, pleated skirts and scabbed knees flying.
"Anyhow, I never did dig no ditch. Never dug a one in my whole career. Went to work for a bedsheet factory out in Phoenix, three dollars an hour. Me and Cathy, we're happy people." Scramm smiled. "Sometimes we'll be watching TV and Cath will grab me and say, ‘We're happy people, honey.’ She's a peach."
"You got any kids?" Eliana asked, though she knew confirmation would be dreadful.
"Well, Cathy's pregnant right now. She said we should wait antil we had enough in the bank to pay for the delivery. When we got up to seven hundred, she said go, and we went. She aughr pregnant in no time at all." Scramm looked sternly at the four of them. “My kid's going to college. They say dumb guys like me never have smart kids, but Cathy's smart enough for both das. Cathy finished high school. I made her finish. Four night curses and then she took the H.S.E.T. My kid's going to as 'Much college as he wants."
None of the girls said anything, they shared a common thought with each other, communicating simply only with their thoughts. The main one was: Anthony Scramm is fucked. None could think of anything to say.
Roxy moved away, pretending to be distracted by something Alice Natts said. Angela Woods, silently and awkwardly, walked up to meet Cassandra. Dallas just stayed by Elia’s side, saying nothing. Eliana looked around, trying to find something to keep herself focused. Tanner and Sykes were playing hacky sack behind them, throwing it over Stebbins’ head. Adams and Upham and Kirby were walking, hand in hand, discussing something with a conspirator’s quietness. Juney and Abraham were playing a game, which was made up entirely of matching insults with way too much enthusiasm.
She wondered where Marty Wyman was, where Larson, Zuck, the Ewings — where Harkness was. Far out of sight, anyway. That was Scramm, too. Really out of sight. Hey Scramm, I think you made a bad mistake. Your wife, she's pregnant, Scramm, but that doesn't win you any special favors around here. Seven hundred in the bank? You don't spell pregnant with just three numbers, Scramm. And no insurance company in the world would touch a Long Walker.
On the side of the road there was a man in a hound's tooth jacket who was deliriously waving a straw hat with a stringy brim, though Elia’s eyes couldn’t focus long enough on his face to name a single feature.
"Scramm, what happens if get your ticket?" She asked, voice devoid of anything but caution.
Scramm smiled gently. "Not me. I feel like I could walk forever. Say, I wanted to be in the Long Walk ever since I was old enough to want anything. I walked eighty miles just two weeks ago, no sweat."
"But suppose something should happen—"
But Scramm only chuckled. Eliana decided that further questioning was fruitless.
"How old's Cathy?" Dallas asked.
"About a year older than me. Almost twenty. Her folks are with her now, there in Phoenix."
It sounded as if Cathy Scramm's folks knew something Scramm himself did not.
"You must love her a lot," She said, with a little wistful smile.
Scramm smiled, showing the stubborn last survivors of his teeth. "I ain't looked at anyone else since I married her. Cathy's a peach."
Both girls still there were quiet, until Dallas replied with a curious "And you're doing this."
Scramm laughed. "Ain't it fun?"
"Not for Harkness," Eliana said sourly. "Go ask him if he thinks it's fun."
Scramm was quiet before smiling again, “Vegas odds made me the favorite man just before the Walk started," Scramm said. "Odds-on."
“Daisy was puking a little while back, y’know. She’s Vegas’ favorite girl.” Dallas said.
Scramm cocked an eyebrow. “And now; how is she?”
“She’s great.” Mary said glumly, joining the three of them leaving the side of Peggy Upham. “Tremendous shape now. Grinning and joking and everything.”
The crowd gathered in a supermarket parking lot they were just passing. "Everyone who wasn't in shape is dead now, or almost dead. But there's still seventy-two of us left." Dallas added.
"Yeah, but..." A thinking frown spread over the broad circle of Scramm's face. Eliana was sure she could almost hear the machinery up there working: slow, ponderous, but in the end as sure as death and as inescapable as taxes.
"I don't want to make you ladies mad," Scramm said."You seem like good women. Cathy would like you all too — But you didn't get into this thinking of winning out and getting the Prize. Most of these girls and most of these guys don't know why they got into it. Look at that Barkovitch. He ain't in it to get no Prize. He's just walkin' to see other people die. He lives on it. When someone gets a ticket, he gets a little more go-power. It ain't enough. He'll dry up just like a leaf on a tree.”
"And us?" Elia asked.
Scramm looked troubled. "Aw, hell ..."
"No, go on."
"Well, the way I see it, you don't know why you are walking, either. It's the same thing. You're going now because you're afraid, but that's not enough. That wears out." Scramm looked down at the road and rubbed his hands together. "And when it wears out, I guess you'll buy a ticket like all the rest, Miss Waites.”
When I get tired enough I’ll sit down
"You'll have to walk a long time to walk me down," Eliana said, a little angry. Scramm's simple assessment of the situation was wrong, she knew it was, the factors would change; love couldn’t keep you on your feet forever, there wasn’t enough love in the world to do that.
"I," Scramm said, "am ready to walk a long time." Their feet rose and fell on the asphalt, carrying them for-ward, around a curve, down into a dip and then over a railroad track that was metal grooves in the road. They passed a closed fried clam shack. Then they were out in the country again. A shot rang out ahead, Margaret Dunn, her head cracked open by bullets like an egg dropped to the floor.
"I understand what it is to die, I think," Mary said abruptly. "Now I do, anyway, Not death itself, I still can't comprehend that. But dying. If I stop walking, I'll come to an end." She swallowed, and there was a click in her throat. "Just like a record after the last groove." She looked at Scramm earnestly, like a child learning what death was; maybe that’s what she was. "Maybe it's like you say. Maybe it's not enough. But..I don't want to die."
Scramm looked at her almost scornfully. "You think just knowing about death will keep you from dying?"
Adams smiled a funny, sick little smile, like a businessman on a heaving boat trying to keep her dinner down. "Right now that's about all that's keeping me going."
Up ahead, quite suddenly and as if to illustrate the subject they had been discussing, a girl in a blue sweater suddenly had a convulsion. She fell on the road and began to snap and sunfish and jackknife viciously. Her limbs jerked and Hopped. There was a funny gargling noise in her throat, ada-aaa-caa, a sheeplike sound that was entirely mindless. As the four of them hurried past, one of the fluttering hands bounced against Elia’s shoe and she felt a wave of frantic fear and revulsion. The girl’s eyes were rolled up to the whites. There were splotches of foam splattered on his lips and chin. She was being second-warned, but of course she was beyond hearing, and when his two minutes were up they shot her like a dog.
Not long after that they reached the top of a gentle grade and stared down into the green, unpopulated country ahead.
The cool morning breeze slipped over her fast-perspiring body.
"That's some view," Scramm said.
The road could be seen for perhaps twelve miles ahead.
It slid down the long slope, ran in flat zigzags through the woods, a blackish-gray charcoal mark across a green swatch of crepe paper. Far ahead it began to climb again, and faded into the rosy-pink haze of early morning light.
"This might be what they call the Hainesville Woods," Mary said, sounding unsure. "Truckers' graveyard. Hell in the wintertime."
"I never seen nothing like it," Scramm said reverently. “There isn't this much green in the whole state of Oklahoma."
Roxy, rejoining the group, said “It's going to be a scorcher. It's hot already and it's only six-thirty in the morning."
"Think you'd get used to it, where you come from," Mary said, resentfully.
“I come from Iowa, bitch.” Roxy spat, “Besides there’s no way to get used to anything, you just learn to live with it.
“I'd like to build a house up here," Scramm said. He sneezed heartily, twice, sounding a little like a bull in heat. "Build it tight up here with my own two hands, and look at the view tvery morning. Me and Cathy. Maybe I will someday, when this is all over."
Nobody said anything.
By 6:45 the ridge was above and behind them, the breeze mostly cut off, and the heat already walked among them. Eliana unzipped her jacket, though it didn’t do much. The road through the woods was no longer deserted.
Here and there early risers had parked their cars off the road and stood or sat in clumps, cheering, waving, and holding signs.
Two girls stood beside a battered MG at the bottom of one dip. They were wearing tight summer shorts, middy blouses, and sandals. There were cheers and whistles. The faces of these girls were hot, flushed, and excited by something ancient, sinuous, and erotic almost to the point of insanity.
The emotion they felt was a parasite, it slowly crept into Eliana as she began imagining what they could possibly be feeling, nausea rolled her gut into itself, an aggressively alive thing that made her stomach shake with a palsied fever all its own.
It was Gribble, the radical among them, that suddenly dashed at them, his feet kicking up spurts of dust along the shoulder. One of them leaned back against the hood of the MG and spread her legs slightly, tilting her hips at him. Gribble put his hands over her breasts. She made no effort to stop him.
He was warned, hesitated, and then plunged against her, a jamming, hurtling, frustrated, angry, frightened figure in s sweaty white shirt and cord pants. The nausea worsened as the coil in her belly tightened, no amount of not looking got the image out of her mind.
The girl hooked her ankles around Gribble's calves and put her arms lightly around his neck. They kissed. The coil tightened again and a wave of bile came spurting up. Eliana chugged and finished her canteen.
“Warning! M16! Second Warning!”
“Canteen! F47 calling for a canteen!”
A soldier walked over and handed her one, though she struggled to stay focused on grabbing it, in fact she almost dropped it.
“Warning! M16! Final Warning!”
Gribble, with perhaps fifteen seconds of grace left, he stumbled away and broke into a frantic, shambling run. He fell down, picked himself up, clutched at his crotch and staggered back onto the road. His tin face was hectically flushed.
"Couldn't," he was sobbing, the coil tightened uncomfortably, again. "Wasn't enough time and she wanted me to and I couldn't...I..” He was weeping and staggering and his words were little more than indistinct wails.
"So you gave them their little thrill," Barkovitch said from behind, he was still with Carpenter, Tressler and Tubbins, though they seemed to ignore him now, “Something for them to talk about in Show and Tell tomorrow."
"Just shut up!" Gribble screamed. He dug at his crotch. "It hurts, I got a cramp—"
"Blue balls," Pearson said. "That's what he's got."
Gribble looked at him, and then at Elia with teary, terrified sun-lit eyes (the coil somehow tightened once more) through the stringy bangs of black hair that had fallen over his eyes. He looked like a stunned weasel (god end it please end it). "It hurts," he muttered again. He dropped slowly to his knees, hands pressed into his lower belly, head drooping, back bowed. He was shivering and snuffling and you could see the beads of sweat on his neck, some of them caught in the fine hairs on the nape—end it end it end it the coil was almost snapping, her face was flushing, she could feel the bile rising like a hurricane, and her breathing had increased a tenfold, enough for Dallas to notice, who looked more concerned for her than Gribble.
A moment later and he was dead.
She had turned her head to look at the girls, but they had retreated inside their MG. They were nothing but shadow-shapes.
The girls, the two kept creeping in her mind, with the coil’s tightening.
How must it have been, humping that warm, willing flesh? How must it have been feeling Gribble on that flesh? Was it warm? His knee had accidentally bumped into her crotch during his movements, how must’ve that been? How electrifying would that fleeting contact must’ve been. Her thighs had twitched, my God, they had twitched, in a kind of spasm, orgasm, something, oh God, the uncontrollable urge to squeeze and hump and rub and caress... and most of all to feel that heat... that heat.
She felt herself go, the coil untangling itself in a mortifying slowness. That warm, shooting flow of sensation, warming her. Wetting her. Oh Christ, it would soak through her pants and someone would notice. Notice and point a finger and grab her shoes and see that slut was written on the back, written in red, everybody would know, know like mother and father and Ally and everybody in Brigham did.
Walk. She reminded herself, as she got her first warning in hours.
Walk, walk and walk... walk walk walk walk walk walk walk walk… slowly the word began losing sense, and soon became a mesh of sound without reason. Just like the words of Ally, and Dallas and Marty, and oh Jo, I’m sorry I really I am, I should’ve tried to save you, Wicked little Juney had tried to save you, I don’t know why I didn’t, I don’t know why I didn’t try to save Curley either, I should’ve just like I should’ve saved Gribble. I’m sorry Ally. I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry.
She took off her jacket, with some hazy strength that she miraculously still had, and tied tightly it to her waist. Gribble and the girls was the most exhausting thing to happen yet, more exhausting the rest of the walk, and still she went on walking as before, and the memory dulled.
The pace stepped up. They were on a steep downhill grade now, and it was hard to walk slowly. Muscles worked and pistoned and squeezed against each other. The sweat rolled freely, maybe now nobody would notice the wetness between her thighs.
She found herself wanting the night again, the darkness would shroud her from the judgement of the knowing.
Barkovitch had left the three other boys and joined her (Dallas had gone off far before they began on the grade hill). if he said anything Elia didn’t hear, but still he looked at her expectantly, when she stayed silent, he huffed and muttered something presumably insulting, before speeding up away from her.
She turned her head to look for something, something comforting maybe, instead, she found Stebbins.
The pack had strung out coming down the long hill, and Stebbins was about a quarter of a mile back, but there was no mistaking those purple pants and that chambray workshit.
Stebbins was still tailing the pack like some thin vulture, just waiting for them to fall.
By the time they had reached the bottom of the grade, her legs felt rubbery and unsteady, thankfully the numbness had returned. Though, now unexpected darning-needles of pain that drove through her legs, threatening to make her muscles knot and cramp.
"How do you feel now?" She asked Scramm, desperate, as if the last time he had asked him had been twelve hours ago.
"Fit and fine," Scramm said. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose, sniffed, and spat. "Just as fit and fine as can be."
"You sound like you're getting a cold."
"Naw, it's the pollen. Happens every spring. Hay fever. I even get it in Tulsa. But I never catch colds."
Elia decided not to reply, and all was silent for a moment before suddenly; a hollow, poom-poom sound echoed back from far ahead. It was rifle fire. The word came back quickly.
Harkness had burnt out.
The disgust and bile had finally loosened its grip on her, now all she was left with was this elevatorish feeling; horribly she felt the relief of it leaving when she passed the word back on Harkness.
The magic circle was broken.
Harkness would never write his book about the Long Walk. Harkness was being dragged off the road someplace up ahead like a grain bag or was being tossed into a truck, wrapped securely in a canvas bodybag. For Harkness, the Long Walk was over.
"Harkness," Roxy said, something akin to wistfulness in her voice. "I know it doesn’t make sense, but I was looking forward to that book, even if there wasn’t a world where he could publish it and I could read it.”
“Uh huh..” Elia murmured out, not really there.
“Ain’t that silly?” Roxy laughed, it was an empty broken thing (her or the laugh, Elia couldn’t decide). “Fucking dumb of me, huh?”
Ahead of them McVries and Barkovitch were yelling at each other, and the horrid wish of him dying just like Rank came into her head, though she shook it off quickly. A chorus of angry shouting silenced whatever Barkovitch was barking like a bitch about.
“It’s funny don’t you think?” Cassandra had joined their mesh of group silently, “How long you can last only to die for something so stupid?”
The reminder of Gribble sent a chill through her, one that starchily reminded her of the temperature difference between the wetness between her thighs and the rest of her legs.
“Shut the fuck up.” She blurted out, loud enough for some walkers around them to notice.
Cassandra looked at her confused, though without any offense in eyes, “No need to get so angry. I’m just saying.” She paused, as if waiting for a fight to start, continuing when it didn’t, “I’ve always wanted to visit Augusta.”
“Specifically, Augusta or just Maine?” Elia asked, “Why? Why not New York or Boston or —“
“I had a penpal back in Augusta.”
“—Or Philadelphia or Dc?
Cassandra laughed, it had more life in it than Roxy’s. “You really don’t listen when you don’t wanna do you?”
She became overcome by reproach then, she didn’t even know why Cass’ option of her mattered, because it really didn’t, “…sorry.”
“No need for that, Waites.” Cass was still smiling, “Anyhow—“ she whistled, for a moment, “It’s hot out isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, “Yeah, I guess it is.”
At that moment, M28, Olson, began begging one of the guards to let him rest.
He did not stop walking, or slow down enough to be warned, but his voice rose and fell in a begging, pleading: totally craven monotone that made Elia crawl with embarrassment for him. Conversation lagged. Spectators watched Olson with aroused fascination. It made her think less of him. She didn't want to die either, but if she had to he wanted to go out without staring at her like some exotic beast stolen from foreigners. The soldiers stared over Olson, through him, around him, wooden-faced, deaf and dumb. They gave an occasional warning, though, so not entirely mute.
It got to be quarter to eight, and the word came back that they were just six miles short of one hundred miles. The largest number to ever complete the first hundred miles of a Long Walk was sixty-three.
They weren’t going to break that record, everybody knew and agreed in the shared conscious. Not that it mattered, one way or the other.
Olson's pleas rose in a constant, garbled litany, somehow seeming to make the day hotter and more uncomfortable than it was. Several of the boys (and Juney) had shouted at Olson, but he seemed either not to hear or not to care.
They passed through a wooden covered bridge, the planks rumbling and bumping under their feet. Garraty could hear the secretive flap and swoop of the barn swallows that had made their homes among the rafters. It was refreshingly cool, and the sun seemed to drill down even hotter when they reached the other side.
“If you think it’s hot now, you’re in for a treat with the open country!” Daisy called cackling ahead, she walked near Barkovitch who seemed to despise her with every inch of hate his body could muster, sneering as if she was scum of the earth, “Boy motherfucking howdy!”
Somebody yelled for a canteen, and a soldier got off of the half-track with one, trotting over to whoever it was.
Baker stopped suddenly, dropped his britches and squatted. He was warned.
They passed him quickly, but heard the soldier warn him again.
About twenty seconds after that he caught up with his friends again, badly out of breath.
Elia dreaded when it would come to be her turn to that. Many of the girls had already managed to, still she doubted her own ability to that.
Conversation between her group was pretty dead, and nothing interesting happened to spark it back to life.
Some people had formed groups like Garraty and his gang, or had formed meshes like Elia and her malformed group; others, like Collie Parker and Juney and Abraham, had just formed duos or trios. There was a light chittering in the air, a mashing of voice and noise that reached her ears in a sound akin to running water.
The wind whistled against Elia’s face, creating uncomfortable itches as loose baby hairs blew into her skin. The ground had become a reddish brown, the concrete was thinner here, this was an older road, and it was loose and jagged in some places.
Nothing really kept her focus, not until she looked forward.
Up ahead was Garraty and his gang, but ahead of them was Percy.
Percy had been edging doser and closer to the side of the road. Now he was walking on the sandy shoulder. Every now and then he snapped a tight, frightened glance ar the soldiers on top of the halftrack, then to his right, at the thick screen of trees less than seven feet away.
He’s going to break for it
She didn’t say anything, not to Scramm or Cassandra, or Mary, or Dallas. She was transfixed by this, it was like watching a car run out of gas while on the railroad tracks, knowing a train was approaching steadily, like a chain reaction approaching critical mass.
For the next ten minutes, Elia couldn’t focus on anything but Percy, if anybody tried to talk to her she didn’t hear them. She watched Percy watching the soldiers, watching and mentally gauging the short distance to the thick woods.
Percy, oh, Percy — do you really have the guts to that? No, I don’t think you do. You haven’t got the balls to do it, your balls are as blue as Gribble’s, I know they are, Percy-what’s-your-name.
Before anything could take her attention away, Percy began walking, slowly and unhurriedly, toward the woods. Two steps, then three.
One more, two at the most, and he would be there. His jeans-clad legs moved unhurriedly. His sun-bleached blond hair ruffled just a little in a light puff of breeze. He might have been an Explorer Scout out for a day of bird-watching.
There were no warnings. Percy had forfeited his right to them when his right foot passed over the verge of the shoulder. Percy had left the road, and the soldiers had known all along. Old Percy What's-His-Name hadn't been fooling anybody. There was one sharp, clean report, and Eliana couldn’t stop her eyes from locking onto the soldier. The soldier was a sculpture in clean, angular lines, the rifle nestled into the hollow of his shoulder, his head half-cocked along the barrel.
Then his head swiveled back to Percy again. Percy was the real show, wasn't he? Percy was standing with both his feet on the weedy border of the pine forest now. He was as frozen and as sculpted as the man who had shot him. The two of them together would have been a subject for Michelangelo. Something worthy of a place in the louvre.
Percy stood utterly still under a blue springtime sky. One hand was pressed to his chest, like a poet about to speak.
His eyes were wide, and somehow ecstatic.
A bright seepage of blood ran through his fingers, shining in the sunlight. Percy transformed into a bright, sunlit Adonis counterpointed by the savage, dun-colored huntsman. And one, two, three coin-shaped splatters of blood fell on Percy's travel-dusty black shoes, and all of it happened in a space of only three seconds.
Old Percy What's-Your-Name. Hey Percy, your mother's calling. Hey Percy, does your mother know you're out? Hey Percy, what kind of silly sissy name is that, Percy, Percy, aren't you cute? And oh Percy, what is your mother going to say? Do you, tell me, do you really have the nerve to die?
Percy did.
He pitched forward, struck a small, crooked sap-ling, rolled through a half-turn, and landed face-up to the sky.
The grace, the frozen symmetry, they were gone now. All the artistry of it, all the beauty of Percy was gone now. Percy was just dead.
"Let this ground be seeded with salt," McVries, from up ahead, said suddenly, loudly, and very rapidly. "So that no stalk of corn or stalk of wheat shall ever grow. Cursed be the children of this ground and cursed be their loins. Also cursed be their hams and hocks. Hail Mary full of grace, let us blow this goddam place." McVries began to laugh.
"Shut the fuck up," Juney yelled, her voice was pitchy and hoarse.
Abraham was walking nimbly by her side. "Stop talking like that." He said, almost too quiet for anybody to hear.
"All the world is God." McVries said, and giggled hysterically. "We're walking on the Lord, and back there the flies are crawling on the Lord, in fact the fies are also the Lord, so blessed be the fruit of thy womb Percy. Amen, hallelujah, chunky peanut butter, Our father, which art in tinfoil, hallow'd be thy name."
"I’ll hit you" Abraham warned. His face was very pale. “I will, Pete!"
"Oh my suds and body! Oh my sainted hat! A prayin’ man!" McVries gibed and he sighed again.
"Til hit you if you don't shut up!" Abraham bellowed.
Elia’s group had begun to talk. The soldier who had shot Percy was eating a sandwich now. Scramm and Cass were talking about the logistics of the body bags, of the taking of the bodies, where they went, where they got to be buried. Juney and Abraham left Garraty and his group and went back to Collie Parker. The group mind of the walk began to wander into separate compartments, which seemed to disagree with each other. They all wanted to live, but everybody knew what that meant.
(Percy had been spoiled by his mother, all agreed. But now? Now, she wouldn’t — she couldn’t— spoil him anymore. )
Olson suddenly began babbling at the soldiers again.
They walked past eight o'clock. They passed a sunny gas stacion where a mechanic in greasy coveralls was hosing off the tarmac.
"Wish he'd spray us with some of that," Scramm said. "Im as hot as a poker."
"It’s all hot," Mary agreed, arm up to her forehead before groaning “Damnit I thought it never got hot in Maine. This the fucking east coast.”
Cassandra laughed, “God, if it’s what it takes to cause the rapture, please take Maine as your prize and bring us salvation!”
They passed another truck stop. Two or three big rigs were pulled in, hauled off the highway no doubt to make room for the Long Walkers. One of the drivers was standing anxiously by his rig, a huge refrigerator truck, and feeling the side. Feeling the cold that was slipping away in the morning sun. Several of the waitresses cheered as the Walkers trudged by, and the trucker who had been feeling the side of his refrigerator compartment turned and gave them the finger. He, the first honest man they’d met on this walk, was a huge man with a red neck bulling its way out of a dirty T-shirt.
"Now why'd he wanna do that?" Scramm cried. "Just a rotten old sport!"
“We forced him off the road.” Dallas said, “He's probably afraid he'll lose his job or his rig, if he's an independent."
"He didn't have to give us the finger," Scramm insisted. “He didn't have to do that. By God, his rotten old food ain't life and death, like this is."
“No,” Elia said quietly, “No it isn’t.” She looked around, her mind bored and dulling itself to oblivion.
Stebbins was still walking last. He had no more than passed the truck stop before the burly driver was swinging back up into the cab of his jimmy. Up ahead, the guns cracked out their single word. A body spun, flipped over, and lay still. Two soldiers dragged it over to the side of the road. A third tossed them a bodybag from the halftrack. Word came up, it was Beth, F17.
Her removal was neat, odorless, and free of any blemish or lingering dust or collateral damage. Maybe she was the collateral damage, of Elia’s own survival.
Sixty-one bottles were left on the wall.
Eliana walked thoughtlessly now, it was all just ebb, even the idea of thinking exhausted her. So she didn’t.
People (but they weren’t people were they? They were just numbers, faceless and blank and yet the most beautiful things she’d ever seen) talked around her. She was moving out of pure impulse, not one drop of energy was swirling in her brain matter.
Ebb. And the road. And the things walking with her. And memory were the only things left. Some trifling little feeling was fighting through the ebb. Rebellion, she recognized.
We could fight, we could try.
But it wouldn’t work.
Maybe when there was a hundred of them, they had a chance. But not now. Certainly not by the time rebellion began swarming the minds of the other walkers.
“Miss Waites?” Scramm tapped her shoulder, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah I’m —“ The rifles went again. “—fine.”
"There goes one more," Scramm said, melancholic. His voice sounded clogged and nasal, and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
They were passing a fallow field, it was twenty past eight. She decided to try eating some concentrate again.
How nice it would be to go into one of those little roadside diners that dotted the road, snuggle her bag against one of the padded counter stools, put her feet up on the rail (oh God, the relief of just that!) and order salmon with some honey on top, with a side of fried green beans and a big dish of vanilla ice cream with strawberry sauce for dessert.
Or maybe a big plate of spaghetti and meatballs, with Italian bread and peas swimming in butter on the side. And milk. A whole pitcher of milk. To hell with the tubes and the canteens of distilled water. Milk and solid food and a place to sit and eat it in. Would that be fine?
Just ahead a family of five-mother, father, boy, girl, and white-haired grandmother-were spread beneath a large elm, eating a picnic breakfast of sandwiches and what looked like not cocoa. They waved cheerily at the Walkers.
“What freaks.” Dallas muttered, Eliana found herself disagreeing with her. She knew herself enough that if given the chance back in Brigham or in Golden that she would’ve watched the long walk with the same excitement too, if she had had the time. The French lords and ladies used to screw after the guillotinings. The old Romans used to stuff each other during the gladiatorial matches. That's just entertainment, like it’s always been.
Her feet carried her along, but she was dimly aware that they felt swollen and stingy, numb as the bodies of the dead. It would’ve been concerning if her mind hadn’t been almost entirely blank. She realized she had walked ahead, and now was listening listlessly to the conversation of Garraty and two others.
"Death is grear for the appetites," McVries said. "How about those two girls and Gribble? They wanted to see what screwing a dead man felt like. Now for Something Completely New and Different. I don't know if Gribble got much out of it, but they sure as shit did. It's the same with anybody. It doesn't matter if they're eating or drinking or sitting on their cans. They like it better, they feel it and taste it better because they're watching dead men. But even that's not the real point of this little expedition, Garraty. The point is, they're the smart ones. They're not getting thrown to the lions. They're not staggering along and hoping they won't have to take a shit with two warnings against them. You're dumb, Garraty. You and me and Pearson and Barkovitch and Stebbins, we're all dumb. Scramm's dumb because he thinks he understands and he doesn't. Olson's dumb because he understood too much too late. They're animals, all right. But why are you so goddam sure that makes us human beings?"
He paused, badly out of breath.
"There," he said. "You went and got me going. Sermonette No. 342 in a series of six thousand, et cetera, et cetera. Probably cut my lifespan by five hours or more."
"Then why are you doing it?" Garraty asked him. "If you know that much, and if you're that sure, why are you doing it?"
“We want to die.” Elia cut off whatever Stebbins was going to say, though it seemed like he agreed with how he grinned at her, “That’s why we’re doing it, Mr. Garraty. Why else would we be here?”
Have you seen my art in the past and wondered if you could commission me? If the answer is yes, do I have news for you!!!
I just opened up ART COMMISSIONS!!! 🎉
Below you'll find my Carrd full of all the information you'll need to know about my process, how I price my art, how you can pay me, and how to get in contact!!! You'll also find my Google Form, which I implore you to fill out BEFORE reaching out to me directly.
My cheapest offer starts at $20 USD!!! But the final price will vary depending on what you request of me!!!
Thank you so much!!!
Please fill out this form so I know what you'd like to see from me! I check for responses at the end of every day.
(This form is especially
Information pertaining to how to commission Ambonexus!
There are certain causes of death, or conditions that prevail during the decomposition process, that may cause the body to take on an unusual appearance or to deviate from the expected state of decomposition. These can include:
Drowning
Fire (charring)
Mummification
Carbon monoxide poisoning
DROWNING
Can be accidental, murder, or suicide.
Dumping a body in water may be a murderer’s attempt to dispose of it in the hope that it will remain undiscovered or to degrade any tell-tale DNA or trace evidence.
It is possible for the pathologist to ascertain if death has been caused by drowning or if the person was already dead before entering the water.
The presence of diatoms in the body indicates that death was caused by drowning.
Diatoms - a type of single-celled algae unique to the body of water they are found in; this may be saltwater or freshwater, and from a specific lake or estuary.
They are not present in tap water as it is filtered, and therefore will not be present in somebody who has drowned in a bath, although water present in the stomach and lungs of the deceased is still indicative of death by drowning.
Diatoms can only enter the body by being ingested through the lungs or stomach of a living person while the heart is still beating. Their presence will then be discovered in the blood, bone marrow and brain of the deceased.
When attending water deaths, a water sample will be taken so the diatoms present in the source can be compared to those identified in the body.
In this way, investigators can ascertain whether the victim was drowned in the same body of water in which it was discovered.
Bodies that have been immersed in water for any length of time are likely to be discovered in a macerated form.
This is when the skin wrinkles and loosens to such an extent that it starts to become detached.
The skin may also appear adipocerous: this is when a wax-like coating progressively covers the body when it is overexposed to wet conditions.
Adipocere - caused by the reaction of body fat to water; hydrolysis occurs, resulting in the coagulation of fat, which spreads across the surface of exposed areas of the body.
Vagal drowning occurs when the vagus nerves become unintentionally over-stimulated, resulting in a cardiac arrest.
The vagus nerves serve the lungs, heart, chest and abdomen.
Cardiac arrest can occur when the body is suddenly exposed to cold water, which causes vagal inhibition, particularly when cold water suddenly enters the larynx or ears, or strikes the abdomen in the event of the person falling into water.
This instantaneous reaction leaves a person incapacitated, and is potentially the cause of many deaths of people who are under the influence of drink or drugs and behave without due care and attention when close to canals and waterways.
Inhibition of the vagal nerve can also occur during asphyxiation.
FIRE
This process can be an opportunity for murderers to dispose of cumbersome corpses before they succumb to the unpleasantness of decomposition.
Pathologists will be able to ascertain if the victim was dead before the fire by examining the lungs and airways to detect the presence of soot.
Even if the body is severely blackened through charring, it can still provide pathologists with much needed clues.
If a body has been assaulted prior to the fire, it is possible for pathologists to detect signs of an assault by examining the skeletal remains.
Another indication that a person has been assaulted prior to the fire is the lack of what is called ‘pugilistic pose’ in the body.
This is taken from a boxing stance where the fighter stands with clenched fists and arms, and legs flexed in a particular defensive position.
During a fire, the intense heat causes the hands, elbows and knees to flex and stiffen, drawing the body into this recognized position.
If, however, the victim was assaulted before the fire, then damage to the joints will prevent the body adopting the pugilist position.
MUMMIFICATION
A body may not decompose depending on certain circumstances.
Example: Bodies kept in extremely cold conditions will not succumb to bacteria or insect activity.
The Lindow Man is one of many preserved bodies recovered from peat bogs across the United Kingdom: his remains were discovered by peat cutters working on Lindow Moss, Cheshire in 1984. Experts have concluded that he died a violent death between 2 BC and 119AD and his body has been preserved for the ensuing centuries due to the cool temperature, low oxygenation and high acidity of the peat bog.
Following death, some bodies may not succumb to the decomposition process because they become mummified.
In order for this state to occur, the body must be exposed to a stable temperature (preferably warm) with a steady air current, which allows the body to dry out.
The desert is an ideal environment to promote mummification, but the right combination of elements nearer to home has also produced the same effect.
Example: In Germany in 1994, police discovered the mummified remains of a lady who they believe had died of natural causes 6 months earlier. She was discovered in her lounge in front of the television, and neighbours only thought to raise the alarm after noticing that her letterbox was overflowing with post. The lady’s body was most likely mummified due to the constant temperature of her room over such a long period of time.
CARBON MONOXIDE POISONING
The introduction of unleaded petrol and catalytic converters in cars has led to a decline in the typical suicide scenario of a desperate person sitting in their car with the engine running and a hosepipe threaded through the window.
Even so, carbon monoxide is still very much a killer due to faulty gas pipes and damaged heaters and fires.
The early symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning can be similar to flu, but increased exposure to the gas, as well as old age and failing health, can prove fatal to the victim. One of the noticeable, distinct features of a person who has died as a result of carbon monoxide poisoning is cherry reddening of the skin.
In normal circumstances in the first stage of death, there is a noticeable paling of the skin due to algor mortis, therefore this distinctive reddening is an obvious sign that death has not occurred due to natural causes.
Aberemord - a law term, meaning murder fully proved, as distinguished from manslaughter, and justifiable homicide
Afraye - fear; fright
Avanse - to escape from
Bloody bone - the name of a hobgoblin, formerly a fiend much feared by children
Bugan - the devil
Dezzed - injured by cold
Escorches - animals that were flayed
Hold fue - putrid blood
Lowtyn - to be quiet
Medyoxes - masks divided by the middle, half man half skeleton
Oschives - bone-handled knives
Pericles - dangers
Pethur - to run; to ram; to do anything quickly or in a hurry
Raw flesh - a demon
Resverie - madness
Skrithe - a shriek; a scream
Storve - to die
Stumpointed - a hunted rabbit in its fright ran against the dogs and tumbled over was said to be stumpointed; also, of a rabbit baffled by dogs in a ditch
Transfisticated - pierced through
Tutivillus - an old name for a celebrated demon, who is said to have collected all the fragments of words which the priests had skipped over or mutilated in the performance of the service, and carried them to hell
I apologize for this, I just need to tack on something:
For number 7, the more well-known spelling is écorché. This word comes from the French word écorcher meaning "to skin" (or "flay"). It is usually used in reference to an artwork created from direct observation of a human or animal that has been flayed and/or dissected.
I checked the source listed here and it is actually spelled with that variant (including the s) in that text itself and claims to be an old hunting term. So I wanted to provide this additional context for it and brief etymology of it.
For the version I know: we learned how to make these in my art program. They're usually done in fine arts schools or anatomical illustration programs to learn anatomy. They also exist as pieces of fine art, e.g. [Saint Bartholomew Flayed] in Milan Cathedral and the [Cadaver Tomb of René of Chalon] in France.
Anyways, if you choose to use this term, it's good to be aware of this additional history and context for it.
In Nocte-Venire they know you as the man who saved the world,
But the others think and weep for what was lost and what unfurled.
The Moon, The Sun, The Stars and Wind all fell before your hand,
And everywhere was drenched in darkness, every single land.
Here's a verse I concocted for Act 1 of my book (still very much in progress). Any questions or anything would be really great because I have nobody to share this with and my head is bursting with IDEAS lmao
What uniform can I wear to hide my heavy heart? It is too heavy. It will always show. (...)to live on earth, a man must follow its fashions, and hearts were no longer worn.
I keep it under a garden of brambles, born out of roses yet to bloom. I let my sorrow water this little world, one without any access to the sea.
I leave it under the clouds, from which the sun would occasionally shine, but the lighting is not natural. It's incandescent, but the filament bursts and the sparks only give the slightest glimpses of what melancholia besieges my memories, and starves the future.
I leave it to rot, but it will not.
It only allows enough glitter, for me to sustain on.
