September 3, 1960, another dimension ….
“Radio’s off; good … not that it was of much use anyway. And the water and air pumps are shut off, too ….”
“I suppose I should shut the doors. At least Ma would have said to do that; but nobody else is coming down here any more, so I’ll leave ’em for the critters to borrow.”
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“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will …, and leave something of the happiness you bring!”
“… I bid you welcome … to my house. Come in; the night air is chill, and you must need to eat and rest.”
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As our shuttle approached the spacedock, Jem glanced to her right and said to me, “Why the devil did the traffic computer assign us to land up here? It doesn’t look that busy to me; I only see that green shuttle down there, and there was almost nothing around the main station pad.”
I shrugged briefly, focused on feathering the thruster controls. Takeoffs are nothing, Real Life or Second Life; it’s always the landings that kill you …. “You take no chances in space. Traffic Control must have spotted something out there, so it shifted us to this dock. Fear not, Jemmy; the ways of the traffic computer are simply mysterious, and beyond mortal ken. Sometimes they’re beyond the ken of the traffic computer, too.”
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I’m wearing:
UPDATE: When I originally published this, I forgot to mark on it that this would be a Hallowe’en piece. The title is now corrected.
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The details:
SUPPLEMENTAL, November 3: Something happened as I was publishing this article — I probably fell asleep at the keyboard — and the fashion details didn’t get added. They’re at the end now, with apologies. Also with no links, as that’s the longest part of the process, trying to chase down moved or vanished landmarks. My apologies for this.
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We were hoping we would get this shoot finished before Hallowe’en hit, but just too much RL intruded to let us get our looks just right, and then photograph everything and get it written up. However, the costumes are too good to not show off, and the house is still there as of this writing, if you don’t want Hallowe’en to end!
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Jem and I were walking about in the French Quarter of New Orleans, when she announced to me that she had just put a down payment on a house. “Would you like to go see it?”
“Well, sure,” I replied.
“Great! Come along with me, then.” And she started walking off deeper into the French Quarter, and up an alley. At the end, she unlocked a gate that screeled like a soul in anguish, making me perk my brows in surprise. And then up a path, on a piece of property far larger than you’d expect to find in a big city outside of a park, until she stopped at the end.
“There it is! What do you think?”
It’s close to midnight and something evil’s lurking in the dark
Under the moonlight you see a sight that almost stops your heart
You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it
You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes
You’re paralyzed
‘Cause this is thriller, thriller night
And no one’s gonna save you from the beast about to strike
You know it’s thriller, thriller night
You’re fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight
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Welcome to New Jericho, a “city of the future” built in a ring-habitat style, and home to thousands of people working, recreating, and (most important) doing research. It’s just that someone has apparently been doing research on the Wrong Thing….
If you’re curious, grab your plasma rifle, put on your running shoes, and follow the red arrows. And have sharp eyes — you’ll never know when something pops out at you…and they want to do more than just go “Boo!”
The Red Death had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores…. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.
But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys…. [Security was] within. Without was the Red Death….
…When the eyes of the Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.
“Who dares,”—he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him—”who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him—that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from the battlements!”…
…At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement…in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe…, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince’s person…. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter…turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry—and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero….
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall…. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Excerpts from the short story “The Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe (1842)
October is with us again, and I’m willing to share some Hallowe’en hospitality with visitors.
This is the fire circle at my home, and it’s a pleasant place to hang out of a night. Also, if you enjoy classic radio drama — especially detective shows and mystery/horror shows, it’s even nicer. My soundtrack is the stream from Mystery Play Internet Radio — everything from Escape and Suspense to The Shadow and CBS Radio Mystery Theater. For the foreseeable future, I’ll leave my security turned off, so visitors can hang out and have a seat at the fire, and listen to the mysterious sounds of the past. Just remember to pick up behind yourselves is all I ask.
Enjoy!
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My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Sister Gatling Gun of Love and Mercy.
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