Post by Grimm on Apr 21, 2016 17:13:13 GMT -5
The crossroads at the mouth of the hollow began as simple buffalo traces. Paths worn by migrations long before there was such a thing as Hangtown. Whether it be mere instinct, or the pull of magnetic fields, or the lure of hidden ley lines, the bison retraced their steps age after age until the trails had worn deep into the earth. And of course, it was only natural that these well-trodden trails became turnpikes and streets and roads once they moved in.
Phinehas and Granny stood at the junction of these crossroads. They both squinted beneath the sun and turned habitually to all four directions. Granny spit.
“And to think, right at tax time, too. Everyone’s paid like they’re expected to…like they’ve always done…but if Ruth isn’t here to carry out her duties then it’s all just going to sit there and go bad. I’ve never seen it spoil before. I don’t even know if it can spoil, but I know it won’t do anyone any good just taking up space. Especially you and…well, especially you.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“No. And the bones tell me nothing. But I know he won’t do anything to her just yet. He wants to learn all he can before he escalates things. About her and her work, and about you.”
Phinehas glanced to his side. “Me?”
“Yes. He thinks you’re an aberration. An abomination, and not in a professional-wrestling-nickname sense of the word. Edmond Mather thinks, in your own way, you’re as much a danger and a wickedness as your sister. “
“Where would he get that idea?”
Granny spit again, this time landing a direct hit on a daddy long-legs skittering through the dust.
“I wonder. Maybe it has something to do with the things the Brothers Dillingers have done over the years. Maybe it has something to do with the very existence of Hangtown. Whatever the reason, he has ideas about you, too, Phinehas. “
“What do we do?”
“I can delay him.”
Phinehas turned from the straight and narrow to Granny. She did not look at him. She looked…out. Beyond. Elsewhere.
“Don’t ask. Mather knows there’s more to this than the two siblings, but he doesn’t have the capability to recognize me. I’ve taken great pains to make sure it stays that way, but even I can only do so much. That’s where you come in.”
“Just tell me what to do.”
“You have to make a choice, Phinehas.”
~~~~~~~~~
Despite Kentucky’s place of honor in the earth sciences world as the first commonwealth (or state, if that’s what you prefer) to be completely, thoroughly mapped (geologically speaking), a corner was somehow overlooked. If one leaned in close enough at the geologic quadrangle index, a small blank space existed along the Ohio River. A blank space in the shape of Hangtown proper and the immediate surrounding environs. It was, of course, somewhat similar to the regions surrounding it. Clay, sandstone bluffs, siltstone and shale. It sat among the foothills of the oldest mountains on the planet. Right in the middle of the Allegheny Plateau. And what this meant was that it was, of course, at the bottom of an ancient ocean at one time. It served as the floor of an abyss. And over eons, indescribable monstrosities from that abyss became crushed, pressed into stone beneath the relentless, unceasing weight of sea and rock. They became limestone.
Over these eons, the rains fell, and seeped, and washed and eroded away. This means, of course, that below Hangtown ran a network of caverns. Some which had been discovered, and some which had not. Nameless things scurried through those calcified veins. Pine boxes covered in unconquered fungus and burrowed by the unsleeping worm collapsed upon themselves. Bones scattered beside subterranean streams and collected in piles at the bottom of even deeper pits.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. And the people of Hangtown lived and worked, and bred and died atop this world. This world of deformations and discontinuities and desiccations.
This world that Phinehas Dillinger, the Grimm incarnate, held together. He, along with his sister.
~~~~~~~~~
“Your choice, Phinehas. One way leads to Ruth. One to Brenna Gordon. One to Justin Kaard”
“And the fourth?”
“It leads back. Away from all of this,” said Granny, waving her arms above her while she spun in a circle.
“I suppose I do have to pick one.”
Phinehas shuffled a hornpipe in one direction, a reel in another, a jig to a third. Blood and dance, frenzy and woe, helped him regain his bearings. Granny slowed to a stop.
“Everything is a choice. And all good choices comprise loss. Brenna has choices of her own to make. She has overcome much, but she still has far to go.”
Phinehas squatted in the middle of the roads. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and picked up a piece of quartz. He held it up to the sun, closed one eye, and peered through. He nodded, and if one looked close, one could see a grin unfurl beneath his beard.
“It will take more than a rapier wit and technical prowess when you’re pitting nature against nurture. Although…she is off to a good start. Two victories in her first two matches, one of which was a triple threat and one that saw her advancing in the IIT. That’s not too shabby, I’ll give her that much.”
He tossed the quartz over his shoulder and rose to his feet, shaking his legs to get the blood flowing again. Phinehas brushed his hands on his pants.
“Yet her inexperience does come into play. It has to. Especially when her opponent is, among other things, one of the most experienced wrestlers not just in PCW but also across the entirety of the professional wrestling realm. “
Granny tilted her head and looked up. Phinehas shrugged.
“I can’t help that it’s true. I’m merely stating facts. For example…FACT: Brenna Gordon said herself that she didn’t come to PCW for the easy path. Also, something about the challenge of it all serving to quiet her mind. I can quiet the voices, all right, and will be glad to do it. And there shall be nothing even remotely ‘easy’ about any of it.”
Some people were students. Others poets. Grimm was an architect of ruin. He carried with him the ozone stink of violence, as it vented and pooled in what remained of the iron furnaces scattered throughout the valley.
Phinehas stared with hollow eyes, unfocused, through the fog of indecision, from the nexus of the crossroads to the terminus of each route. He put his hand to his side and tested the spaces between his ribs. Even a discordant calliope tune couldn’t stir him as a steamship churned by down on the water, though he did join in at the end of the nursery rhyme the boat played, pale and sickly as the music was. As innocuous as it began, the final few stanzas latched on with tenterhooks and insisted on troubling you for the rest of your days.
When will that be? Says the bells of Stepney.
I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.
Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
And here comes the chopper to chop off your head.
Chop.
Chop.
Chop.
Last man’s dead.
Phinehas wiped sweat off his brow.
“Oh, Brenna. Will you shed your seven tears in the sea? Will you fling yourself off a cliff?”
Granny put a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s had her share of tragedies, Phinehas. Tragedies that seem absurd in their meaninglessness and their complete incoherence."
Phinehas patted her cold hand and stared down a path.
“Whom among us haven’t?”
Granny turned to walk down a road.
“When in doubt, always remember to follow the river.”
Phinehas walked another way.
Phinehas and Granny stood at the junction of these crossroads. They both squinted beneath the sun and turned habitually to all four directions. Granny spit.
“And to think, right at tax time, too. Everyone’s paid like they’re expected to…like they’ve always done…but if Ruth isn’t here to carry out her duties then it’s all just going to sit there and go bad. I’ve never seen it spoil before. I don’t even know if it can spoil, but I know it won’t do anyone any good just taking up space. Especially you and…well, especially you.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“No. And the bones tell me nothing. But I know he won’t do anything to her just yet. He wants to learn all he can before he escalates things. About her and her work, and about you.”
Phinehas glanced to his side. “Me?”
“Yes. He thinks you’re an aberration. An abomination, and not in a professional-wrestling-nickname sense of the word. Edmond Mather thinks, in your own way, you’re as much a danger and a wickedness as your sister. “
“Where would he get that idea?”
Granny spit again, this time landing a direct hit on a daddy long-legs skittering through the dust.
“I wonder. Maybe it has something to do with the things the Brothers Dillingers have done over the years. Maybe it has something to do with the very existence of Hangtown. Whatever the reason, he has ideas about you, too, Phinehas. “
“What do we do?”
“I can delay him.”
Phinehas turned from the straight and narrow to Granny. She did not look at him. She looked…out. Beyond. Elsewhere.
“Don’t ask. Mather knows there’s more to this than the two siblings, but he doesn’t have the capability to recognize me. I’ve taken great pains to make sure it stays that way, but even I can only do so much. That’s where you come in.”
“Just tell me what to do.”
“You have to make a choice, Phinehas.”
~~~~~~~~~
Despite Kentucky’s place of honor in the earth sciences world as the first commonwealth (or state, if that’s what you prefer) to be completely, thoroughly mapped (geologically speaking), a corner was somehow overlooked. If one leaned in close enough at the geologic quadrangle index, a small blank space existed along the Ohio River. A blank space in the shape of Hangtown proper and the immediate surrounding environs. It was, of course, somewhat similar to the regions surrounding it. Clay, sandstone bluffs, siltstone and shale. It sat among the foothills of the oldest mountains on the planet. Right in the middle of the Allegheny Plateau. And what this meant was that it was, of course, at the bottom of an ancient ocean at one time. It served as the floor of an abyss. And over eons, indescribable monstrosities from that abyss became crushed, pressed into stone beneath the relentless, unceasing weight of sea and rock. They became limestone.
Over these eons, the rains fell, and seeped, and washed and eroded away. This means, of course, that below Hangtown ran a network of caverns. Some which had been discovered, and some which had not. Nameless things scurried through those calcified veins. Pine boxes covered in unconquered fungus and burrowed by the unsleeping worm collapsed upon themselves. Bones scattered beside subterranean streams and collected in piles at the bottom of even deeper pits.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. And the people of Hangtown lived and worked, and bred and died atop this world. This world of deformations and discontinuities and desiccations.
This world that Phinehas Dillinger, the Grimm incarnate, held together. He, along with his sister.
~~~~~~~~~
“Your choice, Phinehas. One way leads to Ruth. One to Brenna Gordon. One to Justin Kaard”
“And the fourth?”
“It leads back. Away from all of this,” said Granny, waving her arms above her while she spun in a circle.
“I suppose I do have to pick one.”
Phinehas shuffled a hornpipe in one direction, a reel in another, a jig to a third. Blood and dance, frenzy and woe, helped him regain his bearings. Granny slowed to a stop.
“Everything is a choice. And all good choices comprise loss. Brenna has choices of her own to make. She has overcome much, but she still has far to go.”
Phinehas squatted in the middle of the roads. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and picked up a piece of quartz. He held it up to the sun, closed one eye, and peered through. He nodded, and if one looked close, one could see a grin unfurl beneath his beard.
“It will take more than a rapier wit and technical prowess when you’re pitting nature against nurture. Although…she is off to a good start. Two victories in her first two matches, one of which was a triple threat and one that saw her advancing in the IIT. That’s not too shabby, I’ll give her that much.”
He tossed the quartz over his shoulder and rose to his feet, shaking his legs to get the blood flowing again. Phinehas brushed his hands on his pants.
“Yet her inexperience does come into play. It has to. Especially when her opponent is, among other things, one of the most experienced wrestlers not just in PCW but also across the entirety of the professional wrestling realm. “
Granny tilted her head and looked up. Phinehas shrugged.
“I can’t help that it’s true. I’m merely stating facts. For example…FACT: Brenna Gordon said herself that she didn’t come to PCW for the easy path. Also, something about the challenge of it all serving to quiet her mind. I can quiet the voices, all right, and will be glad to do it. And there shall be nothing even remotely ‘easy’ about any of it.”
Some people were students. Others poets. Grimm was an architect of ruin. He carried with him the ozone stink of violence, as it vented and pooled in what remained of the iron furnaces scattered throughout the valley.
Phinehas stared with hollow eyes, unfocused, through the fog of indecision, from the nexus of the crossroads to the terminus of each route. He put his hand to his side and tested the spaces between his ribs. Even a discordant calliope tune couldn’t stir him as a steamship churned by down on the water, though he did join in at the end of the nursery rhyme the boat played, pale and sickly as the music was. As innocuous as it began, the final few stanzas latched on with tenterhooks and insisted on troubling you for the rest of your days.
When will that be? Says the bells of Stepney.
I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.
Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
And here comes the chopper to chop off your head.
Chop.
Chop.
Chop.
Last man’s dead.
Phinehas wiped sweat off his brow.
“Oh, Brenna. Will you shed your seven tears in the sea? Will you fling yourself off a cliff?”
Granny put a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s had her share of tragedies, Phinehas. Tragedies that seem absurd in their meaninglessness and their complete incoherence."
Phinehas patted her cold hand and stared down a path.
“Whom among us haven’t?”
Granny turned to walk down a road.
“When in doubt, always remember to follow the river.”
Phinehas walked another way.
