#I walked outside yesterday to see sheep tracks EVERYWHERE

[kifu]

Well, I've reached the point of stress of extreme nausea, like that's going to help anything. Just too many things failing catastrophically at once.

[roswellroamer]

Day 3. February 1, 2020. Christchurch to Mt. Cook Village. 355km.

After a solid night's rest at our nicely appointed 3 level apartment in the Merivale neighborhood, the task of figuring out the best way to load all the gear/clothes on the bike was the first challenge of the day. With the large rolling duffel left at the bike shop I was pretty confident that everything would fit, but since I would be in a tough spot if it didn't, there was some trepidation as I bought my first pannier liner (borrowed from the Multistrada) down to the bike. The Duc has different sized panniers as one side's volume is cut nearly in half to accommodate and the Italian emphasis on aesthetics. The BMW has frame mounted and equally sized rectangular Givi plastic panniers. Our rental company informed us yesterday that although these bags have a triple clip closures and were supposed to be waterproof, they weren't "New Zealand rain-proof" as the southern and western portions of this island have rainfall measured in feet not inches! 🌧 I brought down the wider bag hoping that it would fit. Murphy once again intervened and it seemed a couple inches too wide. I decided to zip up the expansion section with some side of my body mass the same clothes were smashed a couple inches. Alas, still no go on the bag. So, a retreat to the third floor to rejigger everything. Let's just say I was glad I brought a 70l dry bag for the bike's tail. I needed it once I had to remove some items from my side/pannier. Anyway as I secured my heavier than expected tail bag with my trusty Rok Straps and slipped onto Papanui Road headed for the Southern Alps, I didn't pop a wheelie and felt that logistics weren't now just in need of some tweaking. A system to organize and pack is key to making the daily cycles of unpacking, loading, unloading, repacking an easy and stress-free task. The 70l bag gave me a large margin of error so I did overpack knowing I had this extra room if needed.

Saturday AM brought us little traffic as we rode along the other side of Hagley Park into the Westfield Riccarton area of CHC. A few other bikes were on the road and within 15-20' we started increasing our speed (in accordance with the posted limits, mostly 😉) as we left CHC and development behind. We rode past some of those horse racing tracks and saw a few jockeys wheeling around on their sulkies. For an hour or more we headed west and a bit south enmeshed in a patchwork of farmland. Flat, broken up by Irish style hedges and trees that were manicured and coerced into natural fence lines blocking wind effectively while creating visual barriers. Some small towns and without breakfast (not like me) I was tempted to call for a stop but we were aiming for Fairlie, where a few folks had impressed upon us the need to sample the pie 🥧 in Fairlie. Now when I hear pie, I'm thinking fruit. Usually cherry or apple. But the pies of note on our radar were of the meat variety! I didn't want to ruin my appetite. After a couple hours something changed. We made a turn in the road that wasn't a left or right, but an undulation. Wait, was that a hillside up ahead? All of a sudden we were in the foothills. Gone the flat farms of sheep, cows and agriculture. Now we were winding on increasingly common twisties. As we gained elevation the ambient temp dropped from around 22°C all the way down to 13.5°C (about 56°, still not really cold). We did end up stopping for a light bite in Geraldine at the Running Duck. I had a Coconut Ice (smoothie) and a heated raisin danish. A Ducati monster was parked there and he was stretching out in a chaise type lounger soaking up the sun. Bubba the elephant allowed the local server to locate us outside as most tables were full with travelers. We had taken the inland road which was recommended as more scenic and less traffic. At Geraldine we joined the main commercial road conducting summer crowds up to the Alps and Mt. Cook. A fuel stop there after the danish and off to Fairlie. We chose the Fairlie Bakery and despite the hype, were not disappointed with the buttered chicken and mushroom pie. 😋 We had passed some more interesting farms that included emu, caribou, deer, alpaca along with the more common farm animals. We were now traversing and crossing glacial runoff/moraine. The distinctive turquoise color of the glacial water is visually magnetic. 👀 It is caused by the silt or "rock flour" the water carries and is very distinctive.

Next on the Day 3 hit parade were two stunning glacial lakes. Lake Tekapo and the oft photographed stone Church of the Good Shepherd prompted a photo stop along with a hundred Chinese tourists. It sits near the road overlooking the colorful lake with a view of Mt. Cook aka "Aoraki" in Maori towering to 12,218'. Loads of small RV's everywhere too! #rvlife Riding past Tekapo on to Lake Pukaki which was equally turquoise. Afternoon had brought us a high, thin overcast which kept us from capturing the water's full visual splendor. It is still over 50kms from Pukaki to the end of the road here in Mt. Cook village as you wind up the valley and the glacial run-off becomes a river feeding the lake. There are a number of sizable glaciers here. We are going to tour glaciers by boat later on the ride at Milford Sound so we'll just enjoy the blue glacier ice from the valley floor today. There are a number of well marked trails through the unique alpine environment here as the whole area is a national park. Some trails through woods, others pass over hills to provide panoramic views of the Hooker and Tasman glaciers (the matter is the longest in NZ). Lodging here is limited and we opted to stay at the very nice Hermitage resort. Upon check-in we were informed the room wasn't ready. A bit of persuasion involving the manager whom we requested promptly solved the 1 1/2 hour previously proclaimed delay for a room not yet ready and a corner room with a spectacular view was provided. 😊 We're gonna explore the area for a bit now and hardly think the pics will do today justice but I'll attach 10 to follow. The weather has held off and so far no rain. Tomorrow is supposed to be different but we'll see if the meteorologists are again proven to be inaccurate. We walked through a heavily wooded seemingly tropical path on the way to a dinner which was accompanied by some dense bushes, trees and stairs. A bit of interesting history regarding Aoraki. Sir Edmund Hillary, a Kiwi born in Auckland who is best known for being the first man to climb Everest, cut his teeth on this mountain. 6 years prior to his successful assault on Everest with Tenzing Norgay he was learning the skills needed for the Himalayas right here. https://teara.govt.nz/en/photograph/28327/hillary-and-ayres-on-aorakimt-cook-1947 Mt. Cook has claimed over 80 lives this past century.

[hermanwatts]

Sensor Sweep: Michael Shea, Hugh Cave, Walking Dead

Comic Books (Paint Monk): If you think I worship at the proverbial altar of Roy Thomas when it comes to Conan comic books, you’re right. I do. But it’s not undeserved. Not only was Thomas the man who worked to bring Conan to Marvel, but he also took his time with character research, developing all the nuances of the Cimmerian and making sure the Hyborian Age was portrayed by the most capable artistic staff the House of Ideas could muster (within budget, of course)! He scripted the initial run of Conan for the first 115 issues.

  Sales (Cirsova): I don’t know that I’ve mentioned it here, but we have made some of the Wild Stars backstock available via our Amazon store. We had several damaged copies when trying to fulfill our crowdfunds–these have been made available at 1/2 SRP. I’ll note that while a few of these were pretty mangled, most of them were dents, dings and corner creases. While these would’ve been unacceptable to send to backers or for retail shelves [especially for comic folks], these are perfectly good readable copies if you want Wild Stars at a lower buy-in.

  Zombies (Everyday Should be Tuesday):  I have long been a fan of the comics and watcher of the show, but I haven’t yet dived into any of The Walking Dead novels.  But with an impending trip to China and a good experience with Chu’s Lives of Tao books, Typhoon was the perfect book to start with.  Chu takes the action across the Pacific, telling a story set after the zombie apocalypse hit China.  If you think walkers are bad, wait until there are 700 million of them.

  Publishing (Kairos): If you travel in the circles where this blog is read, you already know that yesterday Amazon nuked preorders for Jon Del Arroz’s and Declan Finn’s latest books. Amazon shut down Jon Del Arroz’s Glorified novel along with Declan Finn’s Deus Vult novel from publisher Silver Empire.  Publisher Russell Newquist was informed that both books, which were scheduled to be released on November 1st, were removed from Amazon and Kindle.

    Fantasy (Misha Burnett): I have been thinking a lot about Fantasy, and specifically about fantastic settings–settings in which the fantastic elements are integral to the world. And frankly, I’m not interested in writing stories set in some vaguely Central European kingdom in the First Millenium AD. The Tolkien/D&D/Swords & Sorcery kind of setting is one that I don’t really relate to. I’ve never ridden a horse or herded a sheep.  I’ve never been in an actual stone castle, never fought using a sword or a mace, never fired a bow, and sitting around a campfire is something I do before I go inside and sleep in a real damned bed.

  Science Fiction (Futurism.com): In 1982, director Ridley Scott graced the world with “Blade Runner,” the cult-favorite sci-fi film noir that painted a stunning picture of a bleak, distant future: November 2019. Since that starts, well, today, let’s compare our current timeline to the one in “Blade Runner.” Just please don’t bring back those insufferable jokes about hoverboards that flooded the internet in 2015 when we hit the futuristic date that Marty McFly traveled to “Back To The Future Part II.”

  Authors (DMR Books): Dr. Timothy Willocks was born in Cheshire, England, to a working-class family. He graduated from the University College Hospital Medical School, whereupon he began practicing medicine. He did some time as an intern in a trauma ward before specializing in the treatment of drug addiction. Tim eventually grew tired of the stress and hassles involved with practicing medicine and turned to writing. Willocks’ first published novel was the noir thriller, Bad City Blues. His next novel, Green River Rising, was optioned by Hollywood.

  Warhammer (Track of Words): In this instalment I spoke to legendary Black Library author CL Werner about his new Warhammer Horror novel Castle of Blood, which is available to order now in hardback, ebook and audiobook formats. It’s the first full-on horror novel released for Age of Sigmar, and promises to be very interesting indeed! Let’s get straight to the questions and Clint’s answers, to find out more.

  Gaming (Dungeon Fantastic): GURPS DF has copper pieces ($1), silver pieces ($4) and gold pieces ($80). DF Felltower has its own devalued set. AD&D has copper, silver, electrum, gold, platinum, Rolemaster has coins from bronze to gold going by tens, and Dragonlance even has steel pieces (Hah*). Generally, though, those coins are the same everywhere. It’s rare for places to have extra coins.

  Fiction (Mystery File): THEODORE STURGEON “The Ultimate Egoist.” Short story. First published in Unknown, February 1941. Collected in Without Sorcery (Prime Press, hardcover, 1949) and The Golden Helix (Dell, paperback, 1980; Carroll & Graf, paperback, 1989), among others. Reprinted in Human?, edited by Judith Merrill (Lion #205, paperback, 1954).    I suppose everyone, at one time or another, has had the following fantasy: that the world you see, and the objects in it, could disappear if you simply decided that they no longer existed. That the facade of life revolves around you and you only. You don’t even have to admit it. I know you have.

Halloween (Jon Mollison): Tomorrow night marks the one celebration that traditionally brings neighbors together to celebrate as a community.  Yes, we all grumble about early Christmas decorations and wish each other Happy New Year at parties, but Halloween is the one where you go out and meet your neighbors and share in a communal love of the macabre and candy and making little kids smile.

Fiction (Adventures Fantastic): He That Hath Wings” is one of Hamilton’s best works, so I was surprised to find that it hasn’t been reprinted very often.  Fortunately, The Best of Edmond Hamilton is in print, although the cover illustration of the current edition (see below) isn’t nearly as good. Just so you know, I’m going to discuss this story in detail, so expect spoilers. The story concerns a boy, David Rand, whose parents were caught in what is only described as an electrical explosion, but they were exposed to some unidentified form of radiation.  David’s father dies before his is born, and his mother dies a few hours after his birth.

Men’s Adventure Magazines (Mens Pulp Mags): Bob Deis and Wyatt Doyle — the editors and publishers of THE MEN’S ADVENTURE LIBRARY series — will have their latest book, POLLEN’S ACTION, at this year’s PulpFest. It collects the cream of the Samson Pollen’s high-octane action paintings for the men’s adventure magazines. They’ll also have a limited number of copies of EVA: MEN’S ADVENTURE SUPERMODEL. These are being produced exclusively for members of PulpFest. This special edition — predating the title’s wide release by several months — will look at actress, pin-up model, and men’s adventure magazine artist’s model Eva Lynd.

Comic Books (John C. Wright): Feserm or, rather, the scoundrel JBS Haldane, defines the terms fantasy and imagination incorrectly, even misleadingly, but the point still stands. I propose a clearer definition: One is mere wish fulfillment that excludes consequences and context, and hence is outside the moral order. The suave British spy who nonchalantly seduces any gorgeous woman seen, yet without fathering any bastards or breaking any hearts, is an example.

Fiction (Paperback Warrior): The character of Modesty Blaise was conceived as a comic strip in 1963 by British writer Peter O’Donnell. The success of the strip landed O’Donnell a film deal, and he wrote an early draft of the screenplay starring his sexy, female spy for a movie that was eventually released in 1966. A year before the movie’s release, O’Donnell adapted his unproduced screenplay into the first of 11 Modesty Blaise paperback novels in this highly-regarded series.

Fiction (DMR Books): It is in Michael Shea’s Nifft the Lean where the author really shines in the way of crafting some amazing and unique dark fantasy. While using a familiar Dying Earth type of setting, and a style of prose that one might compare to Clark Ashton Smith or Fritz Leiber at times, it is the inventiveness of the plots that set the stories apart. Although Shea continued the Nifft series later in his career, the original saga published in the 1982 DAW collection consisted of four main tales.

Pulp (Mystery File): Private eyes in detective fiction are as often as not hard drinkers, and some of them are awfully good at it. But few of them are as good at it as was Peter Kane. There isn’t a single minute in “The Late Mr. Smythe” in which he isn’t totally sozzled. I can’t believe that anyone could go through life the same way he does, in three stages: drunk, drunker, and completely plastered.

Greyhawk (Boggswood): A few posts back, I posted an Apocalypse map of Blackmoor showing what Greyhawks’ Blackmoor should look like with the towns and rivers properly placed.  The map you see here is the one I used to site those locations.

Fiction (Black Gate): Bad guy, villain, evildoer, crook, criminal, and gangster. Fiction has a love affair with these characters ranging from low-level sneak thieves to wizards intent on destroying all life on Earth. In many cases, the villain is the driving force behind the tale. Where would fiction be without Lady MacBeth, Grendel’s Mother, Long John Silver, or Count Dracula? Though the villain is often the impetus, they rarely hold the place of protagonist in novels until recent times. A few famous characters did achieve notoriety, influencing fiction to this day.

Sensor Sweep: Michael Shea, Hugh Cave, Walking Dead published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[camowriting]

The farm at the edge of the forest

My dog, Max, had woken me up in the middle of the night, barking out in the midnight darkness. He was an old bloodhound who used to be a hunting dog but has since long retired. Unfortunately for me, his senses and reflexes were still active. I opened the window and noticed screeching from the red farmhouse about twenty meters away. What the hell is happening? I grabbed my old but trusty hunting rifle and flashlight, and headed out.

The first thing that caught my attention was the missing padlock securing the brown door to the farmhouse. Then I noticed the smell of metal and meat. What the... I swallowed, tightened my grip on the rifle, and stepped inside. The first thing I saw was blood everywhere. On the floor, the walls, even the ceiling. Holy shit! I went further inside and saw, in the middle of the hallway, the body of one of the sheep. It was covered in blood and intestines. Oh my... I looked around to make sure nothing hostile was still in there, but all I saw were the other sheep, clearly distraught. I tilted my head backwards and exhaled a heavy breath. Why now..? I put down my rifle and dragged out the body to a soft spot in the lawn, to the left of the farmhouse. I grabbed a nearby shovel and began digging. After I was done burying the sheep, and flushed out most of the blood from the farmhouse, I went back to my small, red cabin to get some well needed rest before my morning routine. As I layed in my bed and tried to fall asleep, I couldn’t. The thoughts of tonight kept running through my head. What happened..? As I lied in my bed and let my mind run it’s course, I finally drifted asleep.

The dawn broke and the sun shun through my window. I opened my eyes to the sharp light and got up. After eating breakfast, feeding Max and doing my morning chores, I went out to the farmhouse to check on the sheep and to replace the padlock. Nothing is out of the ordinary and the sheep seemed to have calmed down since yesterday. When I were done filling up their food and water tanks, I stepped outside to prepare for a trip into town to make some grocery shopping and… Hold on… I looked down in the mud in front of the farmhouse door. I must have missed it before I went inside. Obviously I saw my own footprints. But among the cluster, I saw another pair of footsteps. It looked like a human foot, with toes and heels, but it was at least twice as long as mine. What the hell is this... I tried to follow the trail, but they disappeared where the mud met the grass and it was near impossible to find any more tracks. The only clue I found was from the last step in the mud. It pointed towards the dense forest right next to the farm. Well I am not following... I took a deep breath and went back inside to fetch my car keys, and Max. I didn’t want to risk putting him in any danger while I was gone. I could handle losing a few sheep, but I would never be able to live without Max.

The trip to town took longer than expected. When I returned home the sky had turned into a soft orange glow. The sun was still up and wouldn’t set for another couple of hours. Perfect timing. I had still time to do some afternoon chores between dinner and bedtime, and if I got a good night's sleep, I may have some energy left for tomorrow to do some gardening and spring a little bit of life into this old farm of mine. I stepped out of my old rusty pickup truck and began to unload the groceries, all while grinning to myself. As I carried the bags towards the porch, I stopped right in front of it, and the smile on my face quickly faded. In the middle of the brown porch, in front of my red cabin and dark brown door, I saw it. The missing padlock. What the… how did… I stood frozen, couldn’t move a muscle. Someone had been here while I was gone and left it there. Without realizing it, my heart was racing, my breath was short and fast and I had begun to sweat.

I finally snapped out of my paralysed state and acted quickly. I carried my groceries inside, picked up the padlock and locked the front door. As I examined the padlock in my hand, I noticed the shackle had been bent open. A person had to use a bolt cutter or any other tool to open a padlock, but there were no signs of such tools had been used. Whatever bent it open was strong enough to do so. I went back outside and threw the padlock towards the forest. My breathing was heavy as I stood on my porch and stared at where I threw it. I went back inside and quickly unloaded my groceries. I almost squashed some of the vegetables when I almost threw them inside the refrigerator. The sun quickly set below the horizon, but I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I’ve witnessed. The padlock, the dead sheep… the footprints. I was cooking my dinner and feeding Max without really paying attention to what I did. The time was two hours from midnight when I decided to go to bed. Hopefully I would have calmed down in the morning.

Morning never came. It was one hour past midnight when I got woken up by Max’s barking, again. This time, I quickly got up and grabbed my rifle and flashlight. Not this time! I walked towards Max’s barking and and found him barking at the front door. When he saw me, he calmed down, but was still growling at the door. I was about to walk towards it, but suddenly froze. When Max’s barking didn’t drown any other sound, I heard noise from the other side of the door. It sounded like footsteps, and something being dragged across the porch. Shit, I must do something... I slowly reached for the light switch controlling the porchlights, and I flicked it on. The moment the lights flashed on, the steps outside stopped. Just as soon as the sound stopped, a heavy thud could be heard, followed by fast steps disappearing from the porch. I quickly unlocked the front door and prepared to rush out. But I quickly jumped backwards, stumbling onto my bum. On the porch laid the body of a dead, mangled sheep. I pointed my flashlight towards the forest and saw… something. I didn’t get a clear view of what it was, but I saw a silhouette of its shape running into the forest. It looked skinny, and big. It was running on all four. That is definitely not a human!

I stared into the forest for a few seconds. I snapped out of my frozen state and got up. I put down my rifle and shun my flashlight at the dead sheep. There was a trail of blood from the grass leading up to the porch, and the trail continued back and forth on the porch. That thing must have paced back and forth while dragging the body… but why? Why not just kill and leave it in the farmhouse like the first sheep? Why kill another sheep just to… I had flashed my flashlight at the farmhouse when I noticed it. The grave I buried the sheep in last night. It was unearthed. That thing didn’t kill another sheep. It had dugged up the already mangled sheep. What the hell is that thing? As I stood frozen with shaky legs, Max began to bark again. This time though, he rushed out the door, towards the forest. At that moment, I forgot everything else and ran after him. I screamed his name as I ran, and his barking became harder to hear for every second. I ran and ran, trying to catch up with him.

I finally ran out of stamina and slowed down. I leaned against a tree, only now realizing the pain in my feet. It all happened so fast, I didn’t think about putting on some shoes. I caught my breath and listened after Max’s barking. Nothing. It was dead silent. Not even crickets could be heard. Max, please! Rustling in some bushes a few meters away caught me by surprise. Then I heard it, the sound of a familiar panting. The sound was getting closer and I could hear small steps too. Thank god, you’re okay…  A heavy sigh of relief exhaled from my lungs and I pointed my flashlight towards Max. My heart jumped over a beat. I could feel the blood leaving my head as I began to feel lightheaded. Everything in my body stopped. That wasn’t Max. The thing had stopped moving and froze in place as soon as I pointed my light at it. It was standing at least four meters away from me, on all four, with long human like feet and hands. Its slender pale white body was covered in blood. Its face looked like a elongated human face, with two small holes instead of a nose. The panting sounds could be heard from its small mouth. It had thin black hair reaching down to its shoulders, barely covering its face. As someone who has hunted and has spent a long time around animals, I know you can look into the eyes of almost any animal and see what they’re planning. You can see if it’s calm, scared or ready to attack. This… thing? I couldn’t see anything at all. The two big black holes, twice as big as a humans eyes, with only a small white dot in the middle of each socket were staring directly at me, but I had no idea what it was planning.

“What do you want?” I screamed louder than ever before. I was breathing heavily, and my voice echoed in the dense forest. I noticed that the thing had stopped panting, its mouth was closed. Then, out of nowhere, it raised itself and stood up on its hind legs. I swallowed hard, as I with shaky hands had followed its head with my flashlight. It topped at three meters in height, with a straight back and its arms along the side of its body, reaching down to its knees. My body was completely stiff. If it wanted to attack, now was the perfect moment. But nothing happened. We just stood there, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the thing began running away from me… backwards. I jumped by surprise and felt my heart drop down to my stomach.  It quickly ran out of my sight, but it ran backwards. It was perfectly dodging every tree that was behind it, like it had eyes in the back of its head. While running, it was still staring at me with its hauntingly gaping eyes. When the sound of its footsteps had disappeared, I rushed back home, ignoring the pain in my feet. I arrived at my cabin, went inside and packed any necessary equipment I could find. I ran out to my car and jumped inside, trying to fit the key in the ignition slot as my hand were rapidly shaking. I finally got the car started, and drove away with the gas pedal pressed at the floor. I glanced at my rear mirror, watching as my farm grew smaller and smaller. But I also saw a silhouette, in the faint glow from the porch lights, of a long shape in the middle of the road, seemingly staring at my direction.

I never truly knew what happened that night. Or what happened to Max. No matter how much I wanted to have faith and go look for him, I will never, in the rest of my life, return to that farm at the edge of the forest.