Part 2 of 3
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Tonight, master frontiersman and student of the occult, Thomas Blackhall, finds himself witness to a murder, and a mystical metamorphosis.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP286 - Grip: a Blackhall Tale, Part 2 of 3
[music] Sunday's gloomy, my hours are slumberless Dear is the shadows I live with I'm underless Little wife flowers will never wake in you Not where the brach ultra-sol is taking you [music] Angels have no fire ever returning you Or they'll be angry if I so don't join in you [music] Welcome to Flash Poep, episode 286 This evening we present Grip, a black-haletail, part two of three This week's episodes are brought to you by Subversion The US government created Division 10 to track down mysterious fliers Possessing technology beyond our own Now a corporation, Typhon's system-wide plans to steal alien tech From the grasp of the division and they're willing to take down a president to do it As Typhon's plans come to a head, something escapes from a burning building in New York City Corporate mercenaries are on the way and so are the black helicopters of Division 10 But there's another player in this game And far higher stakes than control of a government or technology The fliers are back Subversion, a science-fiction adventure novel by John Mirro Conspiracies, spies, and aliens In enemy lines, the lines aren't as clear as you'd think Buy it now on Kindle, learn more at servingworlds.com Flash Poep is an experiment in broadcasting fresh Poep stories in the modern age Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings Tonight, Master Frontiersman and student of the occult Thomas Blackhall Finds himself witness to a murder and a mystical metamorphosis Grip, a blackhall tale, part two of three Written by J.R.D. Skinner, art and narration by Proponax, and audio produced by Jessica Miller Nestled within the rasping branches of a squat blue spruce, Blackhall considered if perhaps Holding Palivar with the dead sleighman might have been a more fruitful course There had been little time for the decision, as the storm overhead unleashed a thickened volley of wind and snow, and the loss of the tracks marking the five remaining passengers Had seen the greater threat in the moment Now with his vision reduced to the edge of his hat-sprim, and a land quickly flooding With ivory, Thomas doubted he would be able to locate the Frenchman's corpse if he did Somehow managed to stumble back to the main trail He could only wait out the flurry, and hope that continuing generally westward would be enough to determine where the party had been headed Given the weather, he guessed it could not be far, but with his confidence in his navigation Stymied by the mind-clouding impact of his sudden descent, and without sky or landmarks To guide him, he'd just as likely wander into peaking as locate his stolen goods In the meantime, he was left to wait, to ruminate on his lost pouch, and his lost wife At dusk as he dosed lightly beneath his layers of wool and lining, the wind dropped to a gentle ledge, and the downfall lessened to a persistent dusting Once he'd cracked the powdery shell that had grown around his hasty refuge, Blackhall cursed the dipping sun and pressed hard west, before winter's early dusk could fully rob him of his search An hour passed, then too, and yet, despite the night's travel, a pregnant moon rose through the spent clouds, offering a small boon to ease Thomas's chilled frustrations It was as he broke from a stand of frozen birch that he spotted the woman She had rested an arm on a nearby branch, and her ebb and skin stood fully exposed to the harsh cold If the unlikelihood of the encounter had not set Thomas back, then her stature certainly did, as such a lush physique was a rare sight for the widower If she had not collapsed, he reflected afterwards, he might have been tempted to briefly linger Instead, with a sigh of damnation, she toppled forward into the powder Blackhall was relieved to find her yet alive as he lay his knee beside her, and he was quick to unfurl a blanket about her nearly frost-bitten form As he did so, however, he discovered the seer and tear that he'd seen too often in his time fighting the little dictator Is this a musket wound? He asked as she replied the newfound warmth seemed to bring some relief Fear carried me far, and fast, in all honesty, I did not even realize I'd been wounded until I'd cleared the deadfall on five leaps I haven't held such alacrity since I was a child, but I suppose, as my husband used to say, "being shot is a strangely motivating experience" Still, though I look twenty, I remain a ragged fifty, my hip hurt even as I grew sure of my freedom, and my breath seems to slowly escape me With numb fingers he end-buttoned his great coat and wrapped its end about her blanketed shoulders, so that his heat might be added to her own It was a poor shelter, he knew, but Blackhall was just as aware that it was not the cold that would end her There was not he could do for her wound, but provide comfort and conversation in her final moments, though the lungs seemed hardly punctured, it only meant it would be a slow, painful end "Though I do not wish to burden you in your current state," he said, "I must admit I understand little of what you're saying" "You are the man in the treetop ship, are you not?" "I am." "They were spooked at your passing, with some desperation they waved their pistols, then told us to proceed into the woods" "Oh I see you dead, but I did not look like this then, I looked as myself, white certainly, but also an aging mother, with a sagging face and body, proudly showing the science of babies past, and a skill in the creation of sweet cakes" "For Horatio to see me alive, he would think his pillow talk fantasies would come true" "Anyhow, Arsenow, declare to stand, saying that they could have our coin, and even his sleigh and team, though it lightly meant death by exposure for the lot of us, but he would not be marched into the wheel to be executed and forgotten in the shadow of an unnamed hill." "Without a second concern, the elder of the two, in the well-tailored suit, let fly with his weapon." Before the echo had left our ears, the dandy had moved on to berating his brother. "Yes," once clearly seen, they were unmistakably of the same horrible lineage. After overplaying his hand, for pressing his axe as an inebriate to the point of risking their safe operation. She pointed as she spoke, "They're not far off, squatting in a former logging operation. It seemed I was running forever, but surely it could be no more than a mile of this frozen landscape." "The pox-cap," asked Black Hall. Her breathing was becoming increasingly ragged, and his impatience for details warred with his sympathy for the dying woman. Nearly panting, she replied, "Though I've no doubt, it's which of the original inhabitants from the place. If there was a pox, it's not there now." Seeing seniors try at, he became apparent that the younger man has a knack for vomiting on command, and that it's--that's how it intended to be used to deter any unexpected visitor who stumbles across the grounds. They were apparently lucky he did not utilize the trick while enacting his full strength. "Yes," said Thomas, "but how did you come to your current state?" "The third, the eldest. There are four long houses left standing in which they shelter. Three are left always cold, while the final is where they slumber." Seeing the one which we were housed, in which I was intended to be housed, they've left a dead family of four. The bodies have frozen to the walls, but the brothers insisted loudly that the earth is too solid for burial, and the unused cabin is required in case they should be taken to visit with us privately. They've driven iron spikes into the beams beneath the floor of the last shanty, deep teeth of steel, and they've affixed thick change to those anchors. The manacles are so cold, my skin stuck to their rim as they applied them. The ritual was conducted on each captive in turn, though the configuration of our prone bodies was such that they could not clear view one another, at least that was my case. I had suspected a perverse indignation, but did not know exactly what to make of the screaming until the needles began to pierce my own skin. The world seemed filled with searing, and I wept at the constant pressure of the pin-breaks. The work seemed to last forever, but though I cannot say what pattern was created, it was clear from the mix of blood and ink that saturated the floorboards that I was being marked. I know not the source of this power any more than I know how you sailed the timber. But when he completed his design, my body changed, took this form, they spoke as I howled. The greatest reassurance is that they have business associates arriving on the morrow. I have no confirmation, but it's my guess that their impeding company would have shipped me south for sales who have plantation, Lord. While outside the reach of family, and any who might believe my tale of unlikely misfortune. So you ran at the earliest opportunity, asked Thomas. It felt a thick question, but it was all he could think to do against the transformed matron's fading tone. Look beyond the change in my skin, my bosom has never been so supple, my hips never so suggestive. No. It's not from the horrors they intended tomorrow that I ran. It was those they intended tonight. It was the final statement the woman would make, though her moist gasps spun increasingly fragile strands in the chill air until dawn. His light filled the land, so too did the last of it flee from her gaze's eyes. Pushing away the blanket they'd shared, black holstered. Flashpulp is presented by flashpulp.com and is released under the Canadian Creative Commons' attribution non-commercial 2.5 license. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to scare@skinner.fm or the voicemail line at 206-338-2792, but be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the free sound project found at freesound.org. For a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them, please check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. [MUSIC]