Wayland Duchanes
The Revenant
I dragged my wife out into the streets of Thud by her hair. Her desperate screams came upon my ears like a banshee, yet I could not heed them. My fist was clenched around her golden locks like a workshop vice and my legs kept stomping the ground just like pistons push a train. Her legs flailed, her nails drew blood from my hands and her mouth begged, but I would not be dissuaded. I couldn't be. My eyes stung like sandpaper dragged across an open wound, but still I could not blink. My mouth was twisted in a vicious battle between snarling, unnatural rage and horrifying fear. On and on went this macabre until we came to the middle of town. I slammed her back into the sticking post. The impact seemed to drain the last of her resistance away, just like a dog learns to remain helpless. The only course of action she had left at her disposal was her beautiful green eyes: saddened, pleading, scared. From my hip came the sound of gun metal sliding over leather, a barrel kissed her face and the hammer clicked back in unholy anticipation. Nearby, the man in black laughed. That's all he had been doing. He simply leaned back and laughed heartily to the heavens like a madman while my son lay at his feet broken; his body bent in ways unnatural.
I dug deeper than I had before and found the ability to turn my head towards the man in black. Or, perhaps he had simply wanted me to look at him at that time. The man in black yelled,
"Come now, Law Man! It's time for justice! Such a terrible crime your adulteress wife has committed: cheating on her own husband! Of course, I was the one she laid with, so I don't mind one lick. Yet, the law is the law, right? I'm not sure, but an execution seems fitting. If you can't have her, why should anyone else have such a pretty little thang?"
He continued to laugh as though all of this was the funniest joke he'd seen in his life.
Her voice whispered two syllables to me; filled with the same sweetness, love and affection I'd come to know her for, yet mixed with agony and fear of the other side.
"Honey?"
Tears sprang from my burning, unblinking eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I managed to whisper back,
"Elisabeth, I'm ssssss--"
The last word hung suspended from my mouth so that I sounded like a broken whistle. My finger tightened on the trigger.
You could have installed a new window in the bandit's throat if it hadn't been gushing with blood. The element of surprise was lost as the rest of the gang turned on me and raised their weapons with violent intent. My guncraft, the craft of my father and forefathers, went to work on the scoundrels. Gun metal became super hot and the smell of spent gunpowder scorched my nostrils. Still, the twin hammers fell again and again. My body ducked, side stepped and dodged in a smooth, yet erratic manner that the gang of bandits found utterly frustrating to aim at. One by one, they succumbed to solid lead and the fighting was no more. My ears rang in remembrance of the gunfire report. I walked around the dead bodies to find out what coveted treasure the bandits had been fighting over.
Her name was Elisabeth. She was a beautiful rarity; a jewel somehow discovered in these monotonous sands. The fact that she entered my life meant that someone up there truly cared about my happiness. My rescuing her lead to our friendship in the town of Thud, my town; my home in the middle of this unforgiving desert. She was a doctor and I was a martial. We both worked towards helping our community and that lead to us marrying. It wasn't long into our marriage before baby Samuel took this loving couple and made it three.
"Come off it, Samuel! Now's not the time for pranks! You know there ain't no more men in black, boy."
"Alright, Sammy, but you have to promise to go to bed after this."
"Promise!"
"Cross your heart and jump in a pit. I'm going to hold you to it."
I tousled my little boy's hair, leaned back and told of the old.
"It's a place you never want to go, son. Don't worry about it now. I'll explain it all better, later. Just know that, for as long as I'm able, I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you alive and safe..."
I looked where my son pointed and was dumbfounded. Some fool was stumbling through the hot desert on foot wearing all black. Each step was harried from what was most likely exhaustion, thirst and maybe even hunger. I ran out to help the guy before he fell to the desert's wrath. Right before I reached him, he fell over. I picked him up, helped him keep walking and asked,
"Hey, mister? Don't give up on me now! You're almost to town. Just a little ways more and we can get you fixed up jes' fine."
The man in black's eyes opened to slits and gazed curiously at me. It almost felt like a slizzard eyeing a mouse. Then, he started laughing weakly out the side of his mouth, like some kind of lunatic. At the time, I only figured it to be a weird quirk induced by desert hysteria.
"So, you're a preacher man."
"Yessir, indeedy. It is my life goal to help people...come to terms with the harshness of this mortal life and...help them understand that their life has a higher purpose than this forsaken land they toil upon. It is my goal in life to...placate and assuage all those that I come across."
"Do you dress like that so you can meet your Creator faster?"
"Beg your pardon?"
"Wearing all black in a desert is jes' invitin' trouble. You'll get heat stroke faster than if you wore normal, lighter clothing."
"Oh, that's fine. If it's a danger, than that is my cross to bear. I always want people to be able to know who I am and...what I stand for whenever we meet."
"Well, regardless of your fashion sense, I think that, if the three of us work together, we can do this town a world of good. What's your name, stranger?"
"Walter, good sir. You?"
"Wayland."
"Sammy! Sammy boy!" he yelled at my son's corpse.
"Can you believe what your fatha' has done, son! He's gone and killed your mother, boy! Looks like yer mother is in need of some good ol' fashioned avengin'!"
He pulled a knife out of his boot and held it over the broken boy's body. Then, he began to whistle and shake the knife in a kind of ritual manner. Suddenly, like a sprung mouse trap, all of Samuel's limbs sprang forward; straight as boards. Like a child crudely plays make believe with a stiff weesh doll, Samuel's body slowly, but surely, stood itself up, grabbed the knife and woodenly advanced towards me; knife pointed directly at my heart. I couldn't move an inch. I was being forced to watch my own flesh and blood be used like some kind of puppet on strings to end my life. When Samuel was a nerve wracking 2 feet away, the man in black spoke up, saying,
"Ah, Hell, Law Man! Go ahead and kill your own son while you're at it!"
As quick as solstice lightning, my guns sprang forward and wasted the manipulated remains of my brutalized, murdered son. Samuel's left ear disappeared, his right arm fell off and his knees gave out from the torrent of hot lead. I couldn't stop firing until the only sound coming from my pistols was that of *Click!* *Click!* *Click!*
My arms slowly lowered until they hung limply at my sides. A wave of depression and utter brokenness enveloped me like a fisher's net; tangled me in self-loathing and darkness. The man in black started laughing again as the people of Thud started to make themselves known. They slowly shambled out of houses and alleyways, like zumbai legends from the south, until they had completely surrounded me. Their eyes weren't right. Their irises were all red and yellow. They were all bearing arms; some of them with knives, cudgels or sticks and the rest with a variety of tools that could potentially do harm to a being.
"People of Thud!" proclaimed the man in black.
"Here is your martial; your standard of justice! You saw how he just murdered his own family in cold blood! Will you, the good people of Thud, allow such a travesty to take place without proper recompense!?!"
There was no answer; just swaying zumbai-like townsfolk that I used to love and care for.
"Screw it. Just kill him already."
Suddenly, there arose such a scream from each of the townsfolk. It was a horrid, grinding cacophony of terrible rage and hatred that forced itself into my ear drums. My guns instinctively sprang up as the townsfolk collapsed towards me. Shot after acrid shot sprang out from my six shooters. Each shot bucked at my ability to control my grip. Each shot tried to steal my hearing from me. I fired into the crowd at will. It would be near impossible to miss someone in this case. Those hit would fall over dead or clutch their new wound and sink to the ground where they would die soon. My hands worked their lithe magic in quickly reloading from the two ammo belts always around my chest and started firing once more before they were upon me.
I was punched, kicked, clawed, stabbed, slashed and shoved, yet they couldn't stop these hands. Eventually, the dance was over. Everyone in Thud was dead...well, almost everyone. As I shot Wendy and Michael's kid in the face, who was coming at me with his daddy's butcher knife, I surveyed my handiwork. Vomit promptly spilled out of my mouth and down the front of my shirt and ammo belts. My calloused fingers were seared by the hot gun metal and ached from reloading. My ears would not stop ringing. My thigh and left side (below my rib cage) had been stabbed. I had numerous cuts and bruises all over my body. I could feel swelling coming on. My body gave out and I went down.
Black boots crunched the sand underneath as the man in black stepped over to me. My eyes would not open. It hurt to have them shut, but it hurt a hell of a lot more to keep them open. I felt a warm hand on my chest, regardless of the stomach discharge all over my shirt. Then, I started to feel the worst, unimaginable pain that I've ever felt in my life. I could feel his hand sink down into my chest like super heated metal turning to liquid and caving in on itself. I could feel his hand moving around, his fingers grasping for something; I couldn't imagine what.
"Don't worry, Wayland. You ain't gonna' die. I own you, now, buddy. Your soul is mine. You should thank me. Few get to partake in immortality. Besides, what's the point of spending eternity in Hell with that brat and your wifey poo? Honestly, I'm saving your life. Looks like you owe me..."
I was lost in darkness for so long after that. Like the longest sleep you've ever had in your life. Then, the lord said, "Let there be light".
I dug deeper than I had before and found the ability to turn my head towards the man in black. Or, perhaps he had simply wanted me to look at him at that time. The man in black yelled,
"Come now, Law Man! It's time for justice! Such a terrible crime your adulteress wife has committed: cheating on her own husband! Of course, I was the one she laid with, so I don't mind one lick. Yet, the law is the law, right? I'm not sure, but an execution seems fitting. If you can't have her, why should anyone else have such a pretty little thang?"
He continued to laugh as though all of this was the funniest joke he'd seen in his life.
Her voice whispered two syllables to me; filled with the same sweetness, love and affection I'd come to know her for, yet mixed with agony and fear of the other side.
"Honey?"
Tears sprang from my burning, unblinking eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I managed to whisper back,
"Elisabeth, I'm ssssss--"
The last word hung suspended from my mouth so that I sounded like a broken whistle. My finger tightened on the trigger.
_______________________________________________________________________________
*POW!*
You could have installed a new window in the bandit's throat if it hadn't been gushing with blood. The element of surprise was lost as the rest of the gang turned on me and raised their weapons with violent intent. My guncraft, the craft of my father and forefathers, went to work on the scoundrels. Gun metal became super hot and the smell of spent gunpowder scorched my nostrils. Still, the twin hammers fell again and again. My body ducked, side stepped and dodged in a smooth, yet erratic manner that the gang of bandits found utterly frustrating to aim at. One by one, they succumbed to solid lead and the fighting was no more. My ears rang in remembrance of the gunfire report. I walked around the dead bodies to find out what coveted treasure the bandits had been fighting over.
Her name was Elisabeth. She was a beautiful rarity; a jewel somehow discovered in these monotonous sands. The fact that she entered my life meant that someone up there truly cared about my happiness. My rescuing her lead to our friendship in the town of Thud, my town; my home in the middle of this unforgiving desert. She was a doctor and I was a martial. We both worked towards helping our community and that lead to us marrying. It wasn't long into our marriage before baby Samuel took this loving couple and made it three.
_________________________________________________________________________________
"Dad! Come quick! There's a man in black what's comin' to town!""Come off it, Samuel! Now's not the time for pranks! You know there ain't no more men in black, boy."
_________________________________________________________________________________
"Daddy! Tell me the story again, please?""Alright, Sammy, but you have to promise to go to bed after this."
"Promise!"
"Cross your heart and jump in a pit. I'm going to hold you to it."
I tousled my little boy's hair, leaned back and told of the old.
Oil and Spark
Tales of the Dark
I say to You
These stories are True
Long Ago
When the land was Bold
Men were gods
And constantly at Odds
But the ultimate Source
For the fighting, of Course
Was that they had the Power
That turns good men Sour
They fought and they Warred
And broke alliances like Cord
But the most evil of All
Live in Durheest; a tower Tall
They prepared and Plotted
For what was to be Allotted
For these men in Black
Wanted their land Back
Finally, these men of Evil
Spread across the land like Weevils
Those who saw and those who were Branded
Found a good reason why they should be Banded
So, they joined their Hands
And arrayed their Lands
These nations Four
Fought in one final War
At the end of the war, nobody had Won
The losses so great, everyone was Done
The nations four were gone without Goodbye
And the men in black, no one could Espy
Though they now fully reside in Hell
For the new age of man, this is Well
Though the tale I have told you has been quite Dour
I tell you now: no one should have that much Power
"What's Hell, Daddy?""It's a place you never want to go, son. Don't worry about it now. I'll explain it all better, later. Just know that, for as long as I'm able, I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you alive and safe..."
____________________________________________________________________________________
"I ain't kiddin' ya' nothin', Dad! Look yerself!"I looked where my son pointed and was dumbfounded. Some fool was stumbling through the hot desert on foot wearing all black. Each step was harried from what was most likely exhaustion, thirst and maybe even hunger. I ran out to help the guy before he fell to the desert's wrath. Right before I reached him, he fell over. I picked him up, helped him keep walking and asked,
"Hey, mister? Don't give up on me now! You're almost to town. Just a little ways more and we can get you fixed up jes' fine."
The man in black's eyes opened to slits and gazed curiously at me. It almost felt like a slizzard eyeing a mouse. Then, he started laughing weakly out the side of his mouth, like some kind of lunatic. At the time, I only figured it to be a weird quirk induced by desert hysteria.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
30 minutes later, Elisabeth and I are sitting on our shady porch and sitting across from the dark dressed newcomer. We had a water pitcher between us and glasses for each of us, but the newcomer seemed to be making the most use of it."So, you're a preacher man."
"Yessir, indeedy. It is my life goal to help people...come to terms with the harshness of this mortal life and...help them understand that their life has a higher purpose than this forsaken land they toil upon. It is my goal in life to...placate and assuage all those that I come across."
"Do you dress like that so you can meet your Creator faster?"
"Beg your pardon?"
"Wearing all black in a desert is jes' invitin' trouble. You'll get heat stroke faster than if you wore normal, lighter clothing."
"Oh, that's fine. If it's a danger, than that is my cross to bear. I always want people to be able to know who I am and...what I stand for whenever we meet."
"Well, regardless of your fashion sense, I think that, if the three of us work together, we can do this town a world of good. What's your name, stranger?"
"Walter, good sir. You?"
"Wayland."
Whenever I look back on that conversation we first had, I always know something wasn't right. Why was I so trusting? Why was I so quick to overlook the fact that he was a complete and utter stranger? Was I under a spell or...was I just so damn happy with my life that I thought nothing could touch me or my family?...
_____________________________________________________________________________________
I killed my wife. Her precious blood spattered the sticking post in the middle of town like a sacrificial lamb. There was a circular hole and flash burn on the left side of her head and the right side of her head was now gone...just gone. The laughing stopped and I looked to see the man in black standing there in mock aghast."Sammy! Sammy boy!" he yelled at my son's corpse.
"Can you believe what your fatha' has done, son! He's gone and killed your mother, boy! Looks like yer mother is in need of some good ol' fashioned avengin'!"
He pulled a knife out of his boot and held it over the broken boy's body. Then, he began to whistle and shake the knife in a kind of ritual manner. Suddenly, like a sprung mouse trap, all of Samuel's limbs sprang forward; straight as boards. Like a child crudely plays make believe with a stiff weesh doll, Samuel's body slowly, but surely, stood itself up, grabbed the knife and woodenly advanced towards me; knife pointed directly at my heart. I couldn't move an inch. I was being forced to watch my own flesh and blood be used like some kind of puppet on strings to end my life. When Samuel was a nerve wracking 2 feet away, the man in black spoke up, saying,
"Ah, Hell, Law Man! Go ahead and kill your own son while you're at it!"
As quick as solstice lightning, my guns sprang forward and wasted the manipulated remains of my brutalized, murdered son. Samuel's left ear disappeared, his right arm fell off and his knees gave out from the torrent of hot lead. I couldn't stop firing until the only sound coming from my pistols was that of *Click!* *Click!* *Click!*
My arms slowly lowered until they hung limply at my sides. A wave of depression and utter brokenness enveloped me like a fisher's net; tangled me in self-loathing and darkness. The man in black started laughing again as the people of Thud started to make themselves known. They slowly shambled out of houses and alleyways, like zumbai legends from the south, until they had completely surrounded me. Their eyes weren't right. Their irises were all red and yellow. They were all bearing arms; some of them with knives, cudgels or sticks and the rest with a variety of tools that could potentially do harm to a being.
"People of Thud!" proclaimed the man in black.
"Here is your martial; your standard of justice! You saw how he just murdered his own family in cold blood! Will you, the good people of Thud, allow such a travesty to take place without proper recompense!?!"
There was no answer; just swaying zumbai-like townsfolk that I used to love and care for.
"Screw it. Just kill him already."
Suddenly, there arose such a scream from each of the townsfolk. It was a horrid, grinding cacophony of terrible rage and hatred that forced itself into my ear drums. My guns instinctively sprang up as the townsfolk collapsed towards me. Shot after acrid shot sprang out from my six shooters. Each shot bucked at my ability to control my grip. Each shot tried to steal my hearing from me. I fired into the crowd at will. It would be near impossible to miss someone in this case. Those hit would fall over dead or clutch their new wound and sink to the ground where they would die soon. My hands worked their lithe magic in quickly reloading from the two ammo belts always around my chest and started firing once more before they were upon me.
I was punched, kicked, clawed, stabbed, slashed and shoved, yet they couldn't stop these hands. Eventually, the dance was over. Everyone in Thud was dead...well, almost everyone. As I shot Wendy and Michael's kid in the face, who was coming at me with his daddy's butcher knife, I surveyed my handiwork. Vomit promptly spilled out of my mouth and down the front of my shirt and ammo belts. My calloused fingers were seared by the hot gun metal and ached from reloading. My ears would not stop ringing. My thigh and left side (below my rib cage) had been stabbed. I had numerous cuts and bruises all over my body. I could feel swelling coming on. My body gave out and I went down.
Black boots crunched the sand underneath as the man in black stepped over to me. My eyes would not open. It hurt to have them shut, but it hurt a hell of a lot more to keep them open. I felt a warm hand on my chest, regardless of the stomach discharge all over my shirt. Then, I started to feel the worst, unimaginable pain that I've ever felt in my life. I could feel his hand sink down into my chest like super heated metal turning to liquid and caving in on itself. I could feel his hand moving around, his fingers grasping for something; I couldn't imagine what.
"Don't worry, Wayland. You ain't gonna' die. I own you, now, buddy. Your soul is mine. You should thank me. Few get to partake in immortality. Besides, what's the point of spending eternity in Hell with that brat and your wifey poo? Honestly, I'm saving your life. Looks like you owe me..."
I was lost in darkness for so long after that. Like the longest sleep you've ever had in your life. Then, the lord said, "Let there be light".