
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from India
seen from United States

seen from Morocco
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
I interviewed Brandon Butler from Boys Life (KC), The Farewell Bend (KC/DC), Canyon (DC), The Vicars of Dickroy (DC), and Six Bells (KY), et
Six Bells
The slow sound of steps, pacing back and forth within the room, a book in his hand. A pipe hung from his lips, bit down upon, but long ago having lost it’s light. He moved like a man possessed, slowly flipping through pages in another language - a largely forgotten tongue from a world left behind. Mumbling beneath his breath, the Arcanist muttered words lost within the overwhelming still of the room. Whispers and footsteps, the only sounds surrounding him. His eyes looked tired. The Alchemist had taken to abusing stamina potions - artificially providing him with vigor, leaving him more tired by the moment following.
He walked so he wouldn’t sleep. There was so much left to read, to understand. The Arcanist felt on the cusp of something great - a way to undo his mistake. To shatter the sinful jewel that plagued him, so. And what would it matter, should process involve shattering himself, as well? It’d been his cowardice that lead to this moment - fear of confronting the shadows of his past. Shadows that now threatened to overwhelm him, as worse, blanket and suffocate the life away from good, innocent people.
Even the return of her, his sister, the twisted beast she’d become. That’d been his own fault, too. So damn unobservant. Unwilling to address what must be done - and so hurried to flee. The only way to unravel this plot? Unbind the balance - shatter the spellwork. Splinter himself into nothingness.
What help was he anymore, anyways?
Sleep might help him remember. Rest might spirit away the demons infesting his thoughts. Yet, he rarely allowed himself as much, making everything worse.
Suddenly, Heyworth froze, hearing the chimes from the monastery. The bell within the steeple rang, six times in all. It was morning, and he’s managed to stay up as long - but the body was unable to continue, finally overpowering his stubborn will. He collapsed in a chair. Valdim slept, but his dreams were anything but peaceful.
Six Bells
The Guardian of the Valleys | by Darryl Hughes
Dancing at the Six bells Jazz Club, Kings Road, London 1950s