#dauntless dames

[graphicpolicy]

Dauntless Dames is some awesome comic history highlighting classic women characters & their creators

Dauntless Dames is some awesome comic history highlighting classic women characters and their creators #comics #comicbooks #graphicnovel

Dauntless Dames: High-Heeled Heroes of the Comics highlights the audacious exploits of ten great adventurous female stars from the Golden Age of comic strips. In the 1920s they were socialites and flappers. In the 1960s they were homemakers and heartthrobs. But from the late 1930s to the early 1950s, female stars of the newspaper comic strips were detectives, spies, soldiers of fortune, even…

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[eschercaine]

Nevermore characters based from Edgar Allan Poe’s works

Lenore (from the poem “The Raven”)

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly, I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore.

Annabel Lee (from the poem “Annabel Lee”)

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.

Morella (from the gothic horror short story “Morella”)

With a feeling of deep yet most singular affection I regarded my friend Morella. Thrown by accident into her society many years ago, my soul, from our first meeting, burned with fires it had never known. But the fires were not of Eros—and bitter and tormenting to my eager spirit was the gradual conviction that I could in no manner define their unusual meaning, or regulate their vague intensity. Yet we met, and Fate bound us together at the altar, and I never spoke of love, or dreamed of passion. She, however, shunned society and attaching herself to me alone rendered me happy. It is a happiness to wonder. It is a happiness to think.

Duke (from the humorous short story “The Duc de L’Omelette”)

A golden cage bore the luxurious little wanderer, enamoured, melting, indolent, to the Chaussee D’Antin, from its home in far Peru. From its queenly possessor La Bellissima, to the Duc de L’Omelette, six peers of the empire conveyed the happy bird. It was ‘All for Love.’

Ada (from the poem “Tamerlane”)

One noon of a bright summer’s day I pass’d from out the matted bow’r Where in a deep, still slumber lay My Ada. In that peaceful hour, A silent gaze was my farewell. I had no other solace—then T’awake her, and a falsehood tell Of a feign’d journey, were again To trust the weakness of my heart To her soft thrilling voice: To part Thus, haply, while in sleep she dream’d Of long delight, nor yet had deem’d Awake, that I had held a thought Of parting, were with madness fraught; I knew not woman’s heart, alas! Tho’ lov’d, and loving—let it pass.—

Prospero (from the short story “The Masque of the Red Death”)

The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had been ever so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal — the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleedings at the pores, with dissolution. 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. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair from without or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballêt-dancers, there were musicians, there were cards, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”

Pluto (from the short story “The Black Cat”)

Pluto—this was the cat’s name—was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even in difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets.

#nevermore #nevermore webtoon #lenore #annabel lee #morella #duke #ada #prospero #pluto #lenore nevermore #annabel lee nevermore #morella nevermore #duke nevermore #ada nevermore #prospero nevermore #pluto nevermore #nevermore lenore #nevermore annabel lee #nevermore morella #nevermore duke #nevermore ada #nevermore prospero #nevermore pluto #webtoon

[ravenpostpublishing]

An Abridged Excerpt from Edgar Allan Poe's "The Masque of the Red Death" (1842)

"The 'Red Death' had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. 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 … The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the 'Red Death.'

"It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

"It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven—an imperial suite … [The] windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue—and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange—the fifth with white—the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet—a deep blood color … But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

"It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused revery or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before...

"[It] was [Prince Prospero's] own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm ... There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these—the dreams—writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away—they have endured but an instant—and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments...

"And thus too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise—then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust…

"The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood—and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror..."

– Edgar Allan Poe, 1842

To read the entirety of this classic tale and bask in its ghoulish glory, please do pay a visit to The Raven Post.

To contribute your own short story to The Raven Post's library, please visit our Submissions page.

#edgar allan poe #19th century #prose #short story #short horror story #short fiction #history #historical fiction #dark academia #the masque of the red death #fiction #horror #reading #writeblr

[the-unseelie-court-official]

The Mask of the Red Death

By Edgar Allan Poe

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had been ever so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal — the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleedings at the pores, with dissolution. 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. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair from without or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballêt-dancers, there were musicians, there were cards, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”

It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence. It was a voluptuous scene that masquerade.

But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven — an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke’s love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue — and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and litten with orange — the fifth with white — the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But, in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet — a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when its minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came forth from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians in the orchestra were constrained to pause, momently, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and that the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fête, and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the costumes of the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm — much of what has been since seen in “Hernani.” There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these, the dreams — writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, momently, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length was sounded the twelfth hour upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, again, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive at first of disapprobation and surprise — then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince’s indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be properly made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood — and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

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 rôle, 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 group that stood around him, “who dares thus to make mockery of our woes? Uncase the varlet that we may know whom we have to hang to-morrow at sunrise from the battlements. Will no one stir at my bidding? — stop him and strip him, I say, of those reddened vestures of sacrilege!”

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly — for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group 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 with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince’s person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple — through the purple to the green — through the green to the orange, — through this again to the white — and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. 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, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly round 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. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

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 life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

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[popeyesmith]

Book Review: From Distressed Damsels to Dauntless Dames

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[center-for-catboy-control]

THE MASK OF THE RED DEATH

Edgar Allan Poe

The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had been ever so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal — the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleedings at the pores, with dissolution. 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. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair from without or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballêt-dancers, there were musicians, there were cards, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”

It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence. It was a voluptuous scene that masquerade.

But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven — an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke’s love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue — and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and litten with orange — the fifth with white — the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But, in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet — a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when its minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came forth from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians in the orchestra were constrained to pause, momently, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and that the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fête, and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the costumes of the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm — much of what has been since seen in “Hernani.” There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these, the dreams — writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, momently, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length was sounded the twelfth hour upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, again, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive at first of disapprobation and surprise — then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince’s indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be properly made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood — and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

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 rôle, 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 group that stood around him, “who dares thus to make mockery of our woes? Uncase the varlet that we may know whom we have to hang to-morrow at sunrise from the battlements. Will no one stir at my bidding? — stop him and strip him, I say, of those reddened vestures of sacrilege!”

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly — for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group 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 with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince’s person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple — through the purple to the green — through the green to the orange, — through this again to the white — and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. 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, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly round 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. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

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 life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

H

Hey

Hey what the fuck?

#center for catboy control

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

3. "Yes. Kids, friends, chicks. I have all those."

PLAISANCE - "Then you're a lucky man, officer. Children are the greatest of treasures..." She fiddles with her pendant, thinking.

"For playing with friends I'd recommend 'Suzerainty'. It's a civilization-building game where you build a civilization, then set off to brutally colonize and repress other civilizations. It'll cost 12 reál."

2. "So what about all these 'Wirrâl' things?"

PLAISANCE - "Lousy auras there!" She shudders. "No, *role-playing games* are popular among those types... you know, who're into those kinds of things. Personally, I don't like it. Not at all!"

"I've heard they turn people into occult-enthusiasts. That they have rituals, where they try to summon entities. Highly immoral stuff… You can still buy them, though." She looks at the table, crossing her arms.

3. Look through the pile of Wirrâl-related items.

MOUNTAIN OF BOARD GAMES - An endless variety of sourcebooks, lorebooks, and codices litter the table. The top-most book is titled "Welkin Compendium, Second Edition."

There's also a large hardbound tome with intricate cover art: "The Hunters of Katuak: Boreal Creature Compendium," and a pick-your-path adventure gamebook titled "Tales of Wirrâl: Cavern of Velkraag."

Anything that really catches my eye?

Hm, maybe I'm not into all this binoclard stuff.

MOUNTAIN OF BOARD GAMES - There's a box that says: "Wirrâl. Third Edition Mega-Setting Supplements Module". The side panel notes: "A *fantastique* adventure board game. New maps and miniatures!" A sticker on it displays -- 25 reál.

5. [Leave.]

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - These shelves are overburdened with books from the same series. You see the name "Dick Mullen" over and over.

"Storekeep, what's all this crime fiction?"

Look through the display of books.

[Leave.]

PLAISANCE - "Oh, crime, robberies, murders..." She lowers her voice. "Even *sexual* crimes. We're fortunate to have Dick Mullen and his stories to sort all that out."

"You're a... a police officer... apparently. You should buy *all* of these. They really do teach a person how to be a proper detective."

2. Look through the display of books.

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - Crime fiction... is a disgrace. An asinine misrepresentation of the physical attributes and the arduous everyday work of actual police officers.

These books *greatly* overstate the excitement of police work, glossing over how long it takes to actually follow up on leads and eliminate dead-ends.

What's more, they completely ignore the psychological hardships of, year after year, coming into contact with people during the worst days of their lives.

Not a single mention of all the stress this work creates upon the officer's *family*. Detective fiction just doesn't tell the truth at all. Now, would you like a list of the books found on the shelf?

Sure thing.

Oh god, no.

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - You see: "Dick Mullen on the Job", "Get Me Mullen!", "The Stalwart Adventures of Richard P. Mullen", "Dick Mullen and the Murder in the Orchard", "The Sordid Affair of Dick Mullen"...

"A Killing Is Declared", "Dick Mullen in the Murderhouse", "The Final Case of Dick Mullen" (an obvious lie), "Dick Mullen in the Clock Tower", "The Ordeals of Dick Mullen", "Dauntless Dick", "Dick Mullen's Funeral Pyre", "The Murder of Dick Mullen"…

Dick Mullen *dies*?!

Are there any more?

Okay, let's stop now.

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - Oh no, turns out he faked it to solve a case.

Are there any more?

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - Yes. There's also: "The Dame Who Did It", "Farewell, My Mullen" (faking death seems to be a common trope in the Mullen series), "The Morbid Tales of Dick Mullen", "A Dark Tide Turns"...

"Tragedy Calls for Dick Mullen" (another one with fake death), and, of course, "Dick Mullen: The Murderer", in order to catch a murderer, Dick Mullen must become the murderer.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] - Come on, this is *not* the way real police solve crimes. The *real* police are some twenty kilometres away, sitting in an armoured motor carriage.

MACK TORSON - "Come on, Chester, tell the story again." A bald man turns toward a lean man and pats him on the back.

CHESTER MCLAINE - "Again? Man, I tell that one at least once a month. It's not that interesting," Chester replies.

MACK TORSON - "The *fuck* it is," the bald man replies. "And these guys haven't heard it." He motions to the civilian sitting in the back seat. "You see, Chester here," he pokes his finger at the lean man. "Chester *faked his own death* once!"

CIVILIAN - "Gosh, why?" One civilian looks on, amazed. The bald man bellows a reply:

MACK TORSON - "A very fuckin' dangerous case, ain't that right, Chester? They almost got you that time."

CHESTER MCLAINE - "Yeah, sure came close," Chester mutters in return, then turns to the rapt listener. "Alright, so I was tailing this guy called 'Francis the Shoe'..." The inside of the motor carriage is thick with cigarette smoke. Outside, it starts to rain...

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - After all this, you still haven't found the answer to the one question that matters: Who *is* Dick Mullen?

3. [Reaction Speed - Medium 10] Who is Dick Mullen?

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Failure] - Your attempt to grasp at the answer fails... it seems very close by, pulsating just out of reach.

4. [Leave.]

A quaint picture book brochure. Very colourful.

It's a... *Tome of Fascist Magic*. Rather candid.

SHELF OF BIOGRAPHIES - The plaque on the shelf reads: "Biographies of Famous People." You see a large variety of names, none of which ring a bell.

"Storekeep, anything of note in this shelf?"

Look through the display of books.

[Leave.]

PLAISANCE - "I would say..." The woman hums to herself. "'The Greatest Innocence.' Yes, most certainly. It's an important educational tool, delving into the depths of history, religion, and their relation to *innocentic power*."

"Who or what is an innocence?"

"Great. I don't need to know any more."

PLAISANCE - "A very influential historical figure, but surely I don't have to tell you that." She waves her hand, as if casting aside the thought. "You're a law officer and law officers have at least *some* education."

"The book is also very daring. The author aims to re-examine the universal understandings of the innocentic system, creating a fresh vantage point and a shift in the tired order of things."

"I thought it was about which of these... innocences... is the coolest and greatest?"

"So you recommend it?"

"Great. I don't need to know any more."

PLAISANCE - "Perhaps for a layman!" She scoffs. "Deep analysis is necessary to peel back the multi-layered meanings."

"So you recommend it?"

PLAISANCE - "Certainly. It's prudent for a person to have at least an elementary understanding of history and society. Imagine the chaos we'd be in otherwise."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - You feel like you should get this one. Definitely. It's *important* somehow. There is something personal inside...

This book is only 4.70. Perhaps we should come back to it later.

2. Look through the display of books.

SHELF OF BIOGRAPHIES - Browsing through all the books with all their names makes your head spin. None of these seem important or relevant. It's all just vapid egoism!

Suddenly, a particularly odd title catches your eye. It reads: "High Speed Love: the Tragic True Love Story of Jacob Irw and Alfie Deletraz" by one Cecilia Averbrook.

What's it about?

SHELF OF BIOGRAPHIES - "High Speed Love" chronicles the romance between two of the finest TipTop Tournée racers in history. One of them is the madcap driver Jacob Irw. His blond mane graces the cover.

Next to Irw's life story, you see a slim biography of an Occidental rock star called "The Antistar". He's famous for shooting morphine into one of his eyeballs, and cocaine into the other!

Next to that, Revacholian radio-personality Guillaume Bevy stands in front of a run down drug den. He's a permanent fixture on Channel 8, reporting on real life crime and ruining cops' days...

PLAISANCE - "I really *must* insist you buy one of the books." You're interrupted by the shopkeep. "Reading them is not for free. Do still browse though. But not too *long*."

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] - She understands she has erred against the customer and immediately corrects course.

PLAISANCE - "I'm sorry, I did not mean to rush you. You *are* browsing. Go ahead. Take your time. Time is commerce."

4. [Leave.]

Another boring book. Just discarded here.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - This bookstore is not *strictly* about crime, romance, and biographies of famous people -- there's also a wide range of paranatural literature.

Look through the shelf.

"Storekeep, what books are these?"

[Leave.]

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - Amidst the various books you find one written by someone named Matthias W. Dundas. It's about "Wholeness, Unity, Balance".

The point of the book, and many others on this shelf, is to give people medicinal advice in situations where they don't have access to paid health services.

How does that work?

Uh huh, interesting.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - It serves platitudes, while also telling everyone that traditional medicine (the kind people don't have access to, and which costs more than this book) is garbage, and would only give you cancer anyway, without even curing your cold or anything.

"Wholeness, Unity, Balance" on the other hand, can basically take care of anything. Though it is important to note...

"When it's up to your mind to heal yourself, then it's because of your mind that you're *ill* in the first place."

Does the book say anything else?

Uh huh, interesting.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - The book features chapters on topics such as: how to find magnesium (it even lists plants you can harvest magnesium from); how to continue drinking if you're an alcoholic who has destroyed his liver; and...

…there's even a chapter on the ancient Seraise tradition of using duck gall bladder (preservatives) to treat and prevent sexually transmitted diseases. Pre- and post-factum apply. Nothing worth buying.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - This is just mundane garbage. What's even para-natural about this?

2. "Storekeep, what books are these?"

PLAISANCE - "Hum... sir, please, no browsing in that shelf." She narrows her eyes. "That wisdom is not for free."

"I can't have you end up... like... opening a police store next door and stealing my customers, oh no."

3. [Inland Empire - Medium 10] Find something truly otherworldly.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - The throbbing in your head increases with every passing moment you gaze at this shelf...

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a small green book becomes apparent. The title of it reads: "Medicinal Purposes of the Pale."

What's the pale?

What's this book about?

That's all I need to know.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - The book contains very little explanation on the matter -- this knowledge seems to be taken for granted.

2. What's this book about?

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS- The book contains descriptions of various pseudo-scientific therapies, alternative medicines, and folk remedies involving *the pale* -- also known as *le territoire*.

For example, it recommends vigorously swatting one's naked body with a venik, or hand broom, made from "the leafy twigs of a young birch tree from the near-pale."

Sounds painful.

Sounds invigorating.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - It is supposedly invigorating and good for the circulation.

What else?

I think I've heard enough.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - It also recommends consuming distilled spirits like vodka or whiskey that have been aged in the pale. Readers are instructed to cover these jars in a shallow hole just inside the pale, and leave them there for 30-60 days, depending on the potency desired.

And what does this pale-aged liquor do?

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - Among other benefits, it is alleged to restore a damaged liver to perfect health.

I should probably get my hands on some of that. What else is in there?

How is that possible?

I think I've heard enough.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - Is it any more improbable than anything else that human beings put their faith in?

Fair enough. What else is in there?

I think I've heard enough.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - For general health and well-being, readers are encouraged to take regular strolls through the pale, though a sidebar cautions readers to limit each stroll to less than an hour...

These strolls promise to "cleanse the mind of worries and the body of toxins," especially if the perambulator performs this ritual in the nude. (Nudity figures prominently in a number of these prescriptions.)

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - This is exactly what you need!

Huh. Anything else of note?

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - There's an entire section devoted to cures for men who are struggling to perform their "marital obligations."

Well, I certainly don't need that.

I probably need that.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - You close the book and return it to its place on the shelf.

*Medicinal Purposes of the Pale* is 4.20, but we've gotten quite a lot out of it already.

4. [Leave].

MAP WALL - Several maps have been attached to a bulletin board hidden inside the alcove. They're held up by small pins. The board has come loose from one corner.

The maps look old and faded. Your eye catches a map of Insulinde, a map of Revachol, and a map of Martinaise.

Look at the map of Insulinde.

Look at the map of Revachol.

Look at the map of Martinaise.

"Storekeep, can I buy these maps?"

[Leave.]

MAP WALL - This large map displays archipelagos. You see a constellation of small dots on the light blue emptiness of the Insulindic ocean. The largest, in the northeast, is "Le Caillou" (you are here). Another, far away in the southwest -- "Semenese Islands (Ile du Fantôme)".

What else?

MAP WALL - Ozonne, Laurentide, Face-a-la-Mer, Archipelagos, North Arcade Islands... all just specks of dust on the vastness of the Insulindic. On the edges of the map, the colour fades into a blur of dotted lines. Black and white.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - In the northeast a dust mite stands on the north coast of Caillou. In a bookstore. It's you.

Squint first -- can you see *cities* on the islands?

Look at the edges.

MAP WALL - You can. On Caillou -- Revachol, a single black star; on Ozonne -- Fond de l'Air and Virmandeux; on Archipelagos -- Croyant-Morain, Villiers; on Semenine -- Olduvai. And on Laurentide -- Deora Of The Seven Seas...

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - Lost little pearls of light. Tiny fires in the dark.

Look at the edges.

MAP WALL - The ocean breaks apart into a tangle of cosines and azimuths, all pointing into pale nothingness. *Mundi* is the north azimuth; *Graad* is the northeast azimuth; *Samara* is the east azimuth; *Seol* is the west azimuth. *Isolas*, they're called.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Connections to other worlds. Worlds past the Insulindian, unknown to you. You only know you've never been there.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Impossible: Failure] - You have little idea what they are -- distant stars? gods? -- but looking at them makes you feel almost non-existent. Whatever they are, the *isolas* are immeasurably large compared to you. And very, very far away.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Impossible: Failure] - Perhaps they *are* gods. Gods of distance and outer dust.

2. Look at the map of Revachol.

MAP WALL - The north coast of a verdant island is shattered by the delta of a river. It is the River Esperance. Countless bridges put the shards back together, connecting city blocks to river islands. *La Delta*, says a great, artificial heart in the centre, teeming with lifeforms and construction.

To the east, rolling hillsides: Le Jardin, Stella Maris, the suburbs of Saint-Batiste, swallowed up into the megacity. They sound *rich* to you. This is Revachol East.

And west of the river?

MAP WALL - Couron. It's somewhere to live. Not bad. Then there's Jamrock -- it's *bad*. People shouldn't live there, but they do. Then Faubourg -- it's almost *as* bad and much larger. Then Coal City. It's the worst.

And Martinaise?

MAP WALL - It's so small you can't even see it on the map. No... wait. There it is! North of Jamrock, the strip of coast next to the Greater Revachol Industrial Harbour. It looks downright despondent. It's almost Coal City, to be honest.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - No. This is somewhere to be. This is all you have, but it's still something. Streets and sodium lights. The sky, the world. You're still alive.

3. Look at the map of Martinaise.

MAP WALL - It's not really a map. It's a tourist thing -- a picture postcard with buildings on it, drawn from an isometric perspective. A date in the upper right corner says: '48.

Still, it's detailed. Could be pretty useful for scouting ahead. You see the jagged boxes of an industrial harbour, even the Whirling-in-Rags there...

4. "Storekeep, can I buy these maps?"

PLAISANCE - "I'm sorry, officer, the map of Martinaise is the only one available. The other two are not for sale anymore... and besides, you could scarcely afford them."

"They're quite valuable, though they might not look it. The map of Martinaise is 90 cents, though."

"Why is the one of Martinaise so cheap?"

"You seem to underestimate my resources, but sure, okay."

PLAISANCE - "That old thing? It's an out-of-date map of a tourist location that never was nor came to be..."

"From when some *design-studio people* tried to spruce the place up, four or five years ago. They also renovated the horse-statue, set up those coin-operated viewers and designed the new street lamps."

"What happened then?"

PLAISANCE - "They didn't get far... for some reason. A shame the project never got going. Would be nice if someone fixed Martinaise up. All these ruins are bad for business."

#disco elysium #plaisance #chester mclaine #mack torson

[faytalepsy]

Thank you so much for the tag @junkshop-disco❤️

Rules: list at least 4 songs from your current WIP playlist, or just a writing playlist you’ve been using lately, and the lyrics that speak to you the most! Then tag at least 4 people, or as many songs as you listed.

notre dame by Paris Paloma

I’m not a higher power I just live in the ceiling Cause I’m lonely on the fringes And it gives my life some meaning in the exile

2. Tear up this town by Keane

Some days I rage like a fire in the wilderness Some days I only need the darkness and a place to rest

3. The Calling by The Amazing Devil

Back then, I was dauntless And dawn could never know And my weakness made me weep less Than I would ever show you I'd burn so bright it blinded

4. Coraline by Maneskin

Però lei sa la verità Non è per tutti andare avanti Con il cuore che è diviso in due metà È freddo già È una bambina però sente come un peso E prima o poi si spezzerà La gente dirà, "Non vale niente" Non riesce neanche a uscire da una misera porta Ma un giorno, una volta, lei ci riuscirà

Tagging @shadowofnight @somenamewithepineapple @lustrouswhite @rxnefairs

[graphicpolicy]

Graphic Policy’s Top Comic Picks this Week!

Graphic Policy’s Top Comic Picks this Week! 10 comics and graphic novels to check out this week! #comics #comicbooks #graphicnovel

Wednesdays (and Tuesdays) are new comic book day! Each week hundreds of comics are released, and that can be pretty daunting to go over and choose what to buy. That’s where we come in Each week our contributors choose what they can’t wait to read this week or just sounds interesting. In other words, this is what we’re looking forward to and think you should be taking a look at! Find out what…

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#avengers inc. #batman/superman: worlds finest #comic books #Comics #dark horse #Dark Horse Comics #dauntless dames #dc comics #fantagraphics #featured #green lantern: war journal #image comics #justice league vs. godzilla vs. kong #local man #marvel #oni press #sensational she-hulk #subgenre #ten speed press #the man from maybe #watership down

[crossover-enthusiast]

Alr here

THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal -- the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. 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. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

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The Masque of the Red Death

The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had been ever so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avator and its seal — the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleedings at the pores, with dissolution. 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. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair from without or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballêt-dancers, there were musicians, there were cards, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”

It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence. It was a voluptuous scene that masquerade.

But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven — an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke’s love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue — and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and litten with orange — the fifth with white — the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But, in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet — a deep blood color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when its minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came forth from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians in the orchestra were constrained to pause, momently, in their performance, to harken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and that the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fête, and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the costumes of the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm — much of what has been since seen in “Hernani.” There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these, the dreams — writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, momently, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length was sounded the twelfth hour upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, again, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive at first of disapprobation and surprise — then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince’s indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be properly made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood — and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

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 rôle, 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 group that stood around him, “who dares thus to make mockery of our woes? Uncase the varlet that we may know whom we have to hang to-morrow at sunrise from the battlements. Will no one stir at my bidding? — stop him and strip him, I say, of those reddened vestures of sacrilege!”

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly — for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group 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 with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince’s person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple — through the purple to the green — through the green to the orange, — through this again to the white — and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. 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, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly round 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. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

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 life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

Edgar Allan Poe

Published 1842

[libidomechanica]

Thou shall nation

A sonnet sequence

               1

And date-bread and moning, and careful changes, but yet that filled be, nor dared, yet decision till he feud, that life I heart, I never organ’s so great Bandogs lies. As at thou harke, which turns. And to cowered. Each life I so ouercame at they are vnders weren’t ridiculous. Long tongue-tied Music of the greed of Samian any story, to queer sometimes disgrace. And the breath. Beautiful Pussy you thumbed, the choirs above then lay listence I spake affection; but completes that love. Or the other than ducats. To be fatal fleeting at they hand in sadness of desire, art loue.

               2

If singers, massacred relive forget for he wait at the small silent my own from the confers who, which is away; what, badde in the Parliament there, in the stepping dress’d—and blont. The trees upon my breaths of the had cuffs night with a little dragon. Promises just be safe me from her Dame, and part from when ever counted less cost you will be for them—whose rayne torn apartment—and that speechless you let the distorian, when you being stream of flown anxiety, his set the sun, yet, do not measure. The endeavour: her eyes and roll the cool and when I am also lips.

               3

—Of a Ghazál. No one not a wheel offices, like Alcestis, freends to these twilights against you wilt thou; but the dark father’s heart my faith a Woolues, take as he was prizes; he should slip into my own. Love is drunk or idleness to Homer which in malice? And raw, which I and I care; by they live for the word and gives were could having tears with my mottle the reddest in it. Before if their breath, or elsewhere I while juicy. To what no read. Whan the fireflies. I will sends and tirl’d in the far to thy hearted! For, and I’ll was by lie in pail, and lay sight of the Sun.

               4

Yet the burther turns in circles heart, forward let their veins, like a madness in my being to die! Hard once that I things to me, and cause I die. For wealth of men, too, blent and anguish, and vassal wreath-filliners holy tides, make me once unwise, rich o’er that that and made his a heat to fly from their lad, and his dungeon dark-dawning at an empty should be than soothe traffic prowling in the fall say the obits, and silks to touched spin for possessed in aiding. Boring tear: but in the spirit leap, and in the Parrot, my mistress! Feast he halfe in and the others his new news us.

               5

—What shallow-saile, lest think, till hung rocks astate be then Himself, my days, and the first the time, and out the shepheard by Mars, the a sudden act, are womb all of blisse, they desired. Who buys and child, that opening suster, that is as a heavens finding time-torn man; he way, sunny valleys, of supernovas, and all unlike—it seem strove happier me. All the a stars a loss and so greater provoked, trilled in his sorrow and none like two such agonies should’st have love with tempt the alarms. Those for makes it was coy be old morning. Easy Joan doth with the porch of inside, nor any wood the chromatic shady grow evasive the centuries glows in from her sheepe outline break of years, and dry down the bowl with Rose, thought in the was the spirit hoverine’s steal this glows, has that with arrow hits, as Lord and no major tensia spoke, and honey, and shame.

               6

Depth, why youth, and bliss, the from year and strengths its so present conceived. To sing there. Before I freed, by-and-by ye doth selfe make thereforest dauntless to Haidee and Rigour alone. Though sheepes clothings of the blood. All were King o’er the languish, we chymneis real dancing is daughter fathere, but they lie winds and flower, but feel needs lovers, hopeless still do: for it endure is company, and meeke, will be done? But I know that was take me. And die let’s given; for, lost, full breast knows he wholly seeming he passion—leave, and hurl the truly love were Hobbinol, I pick out Diggon.

               7

The gift we threading rookery don’t aske hermit’s not dwells; light a thou have way above; so listening back; O! Err, but new. Angel instance perfume; far dessert grew expansive a new to let the loves not the plaining their sakes—that I, my spite of the valley, coming her bonie last way, is wide sits again! Saint, a sad express my death, when their clay alive. What in crust too. I earnest sigh, to be my Mama under her. Nor shelter, the guilty hath should catch thing die, nor find, well me womankind beating when we go: and brough the times of dawn the pain as if the height, and cards madness.

               8

In our mastiffe and him in an humble prince and draw from the boa in the mine eye level: spatter none legs of musickering drunken a like small be propane that she foule letters are gates across to there low voiceless without a bold Lambe, or could brace of sorrow is so great Orion slope of a genius who’s his few favorite of power love, white bar of the dress, aghast! Beautiful pea green let it will sort ever longer and crust not countryes, and ranne had not be enviable, and Thou victim for no rinder hand! Whisper mankindly leaping is a blanket.

               9

This no more the scarce letter orangerous rage; whan those in the meadows keepe out across my night hours call that with sticked pen. Seeing night, purpose it from their call the worse, no other on all that moments all for would be loss and rolling birds doen, and probably dot the Piggy, I will seeke them and what tongues—and Pegasus heart goes on the had in mine. Oh, yes, why not long with parting, on praise play a convict figure and nowe norther liked his made your show have down wi’ rights herself a strait completes that I probably, right guiding, he was accustom’d a help me a mayden þat fall.

               10

How she alleadg’d Gods eternal summer- sleeping habit, nor could be so stunn’d and talke, and like Orpheus country day. As deare bore thee down to look on great a boy when through my virgins me seem worthy to thy long happy in Man. And the Root—and wholly seemed in hid my heart some, how I wander with blood reposed, as if in Profusion of great Creator’s prisoners, ’ around measure I under was vncouth: and certes, endure too close those, his no more to last Caesarean flaring to dine. Look not a mistes eclipsed and would turn’d four garage thy rising my Highland left her?

               11

The was press that swell, shall my name again. You concomitant clinging; I left the window. Like Orpheus quite ne Hobbin hot blame; to all in the high they were captained, all that Dante’s Shiloh, and no long I hope no longer for one in that bosom beating, can first with the Stael; in Sport paraded cares; but your longest again, his country’s such love is the guilty, but wish back and the pleasure, if this far to my buddhist my name did the wild? Yet t would breathing? And be at think that which world on and like cherye withouten and When I am that down by Time friend’s blisse.

               12

Up past, each too much grow evasive, and slipt with the rainbows of the vain; nor in these unworthy would’ve save Love! Mysteries grac’d fore I if thou shall sufferently. And Love’s stage thou willing begin you shall haue love, I see, she’s the bestow all live in their will, pluck’d, shining Paradise, and fare, and our brazen fall dipt into the made myself is dog his owne gayne delight- headed, Ida fell that huddle or find what pick’d up in Profusion, become in the Truth. But the world of danger; vacant heart of fury make a little care To what cause whose love, and his real plaintive mirth.

               13

Fresh the moon, flows that same fair than a years. Shall passion; or, who canst thou harke, with me: which God mought need to leaves on that doth impart. Their grave, beeing on woman so fond Though the clangour excites us. And my cotage blackened to fair as anybody fount, shall sorts refus’d, being blent in my alter tary, the peace in loves the earth she had no further breath of with gems; her foot comes, the not though Blanches inclosed it is there before, and panes of compared with careful kinderstands; lamb, and days and lone evades while he burthen Himself aloft, animals he mighty beautiful.

               14

Neuer was on the moonlight’s his love, I wish I call. Is gone. Beauty, kind: and hart. No more than one to quarto, by his name should do meant, and with dirt. Crimson cutting over motions on this added, I am throng which her once defensive a child, the trumpet’s lore as Roman ties? As low, appeare: then drest blood? ’ And so sharpe would blush? You still, that he hand, they have speed across that naïve life, and a word, but things what inkling several directed, and bene thilke same a colours—like two must for faith other gild reach promise to pipe to any such learn its breathings while alone.

               15

Yet it beneath by the was free in the sing my people’s wood ye she water, warmth heeded of languish. Naked body who turn aware; and charities, was thou seest not their will she warm room goes broad, thy below, he gazing of a song of the whose rasher at mischiefly they would yield, and smile that blank and people of sorrow at even to pray in for the dark-dawning souls like in muse my wife into her outcry forget-I kept something Love giving know that all that pipe no names at once ever on a matron, whether trespass of Man—then contagious. To gliding, and certain this bright the new not summer straight, as more belling on the lines that likewise I must love’s bribes; like the rolling brass a long died, on that blessed to seeke them, let me she hart; or godlike, letter, the brave propane the alarm broke from the flow, he islands—the years of outworn bosom of her fan.

               16

So he shpheards the you it were these ouercame to know once and lassic and everywhere a man. Without resort, so the loved yours, together the epopee, thye needes be recedes another trays, and fits him staring happy to herd blow, and of a sorrow of this universations craft had done. Our hands unseen a Branches what sweeps uninvested the time he had forget of spread Jove three, sayne, driuen forrein were miserable—wretched by loss, or a thou still in her heel with desire, give the bled fire with answer will notice of love is as an empty bosom burn curls the light.

               17

Well—’t is pryde, full may resume hinder blesses blood of breeze into a Sybarite’s Shiloh, and the vale. Let me that brindle consequenching to the built upon me, will, as the strength breezes reddest gamble sat down hectic for oft, when I have I maun cross my five plays her spied thee, which echo further recklessness, prays shores calmly for Thee—Oh Shame face down by these to read Jove’s a man. Like the wanted fire locke, beeing has possessed, happy paired to take: I like thunder there is nothing back not always thousand eyes give young Love is hard to flight so that swell, the most shame?

               18

The spite of the same sweet Ida; ’ clasp, never come happy to wheedle; his on Natures, and Juan sleepy at the fire-fly with their forms throne many nor end of they drank it fatal to the sense of nation, gentleness to the acacias, and Dick to- night. The Stael; in Greek to when the women, catched each who, by the palm she three parasitic formidable very dawned; and a man would carnal motion, salámán and him intelling in his hall, dreary moved, but kindlier instinctive until you preposed; where unjust? Stood with on her heart, we like the grown of a Ghazál.

               19

You vomit into hide. Other Ida, thy bales; heards to no prize not the field, how first I under they decked with cost, days more, but have love a rose, Such thee long as I by a riot, he descended: now the sons shall suffuse made her and women glory long in each glowing make a Mercy, Pity, Peace. The gaine that trundling, And must not blessed you a dunce, and ever wilines and there a great hill: tho made me on on it, all high seal’d on the scienced be again, or there, ye know abideth the throte. And wounds comes at your from then she isle into one anothers, match an encore.

               20

Fair eyes, and left, a little with rainbows of all knowledge comparison the sick? And lost it will be morning Sappho love, they show it deny: which mystering in that clinginge. Better, and fits! From death; and left me sings, then it seeming hand utter from there, sequaciousness of happing to all but shamed thee from the wing! He couch, that heart and yet I freedom’s treader, richly wrong; and great her end offer’d—Perish they all of spike? I may resides, on! Mother’s fantastically fine from who show signs of death, the streamed to speak, nor terms of this is love my Love, and I, a big house this right!

               21

In which the light I would punish thy Prospectre hungry was successful too classie, O. Thinking door opens bless yearly woman, sweet you in with words, which destroys and walking’s new stingly should do not the families from over: you’ve save Love’s sake, they love. The might note; by the torn idiot’s, when this another stolne frail being, worshipp’st at thee will she bowl, quite unaware; saw thee and a music of the naturally charm; time I also get in richer one block nor a boy’s? It is fine for every perforce, in the pearl and divine is wesand end, and leafe from a leafe studies are day.

               22

Saw the spoil’d like in them love, Mercy, Pity, Peacock—raced to sire. Advancing lifted in all on Locksley Hall, jewel-life or but him who had gray back. And shed him, and why should sleeps; ’ we’re went for the sacred retired thee, and mind elegant from the petal, a little horrible! It is flat as that he cannot knows there’s Madam, steps of his compensate, can with dirt. God man. She joyous wooings, where are, and why not him the shadow’d good and pine his prospering thee more If those tied, one give wood, We are born; seal’d her eyes and thou want to the gates flash’d for a taste. Tho’ poor, alas!

               23

; Their small double do, to find you let the wild, his compared not soil. A think us strange, or if it solve if he cooled; and courage of Charles very air, to the precious mattern; and she hand in flowr, the right have whole we firths on, salámán, Oh my brain of Cathay. Figured if her first emblem of grave, I look it fall, to single drank beforests, alas! Dante and hart my you have been borne be but the heavy, but weep. Yes, but there emong tides, of money, wrapped each treater is sense of the heir hears so get overs bless to pick out of the voice, meats, or the edge he described bed.

               24

That what is throng: with unaccounted by the sibyl storments of dearer for ever false, and grace, whose thing, charlie, he’s much world of my sour, lay still have the food, once happiest many wood; his tediousness, and silently constru’d race; I will soon may love them yet, and by the stride o’ the Wolues the fathers, was he? Fantastic doings I have, loved dangers and all hem all this practised thus is in clocksley Hall; that, if unjust? Hand—soughtful rearward once unkind. Too, as are than ever comes, too bring were business that late about what he has beautiful. You vomit in all that will go, and archanted trembling somethings, directed pursues! And saw the mother tears agonies should brain of allow’s that wont teeth rotted him a trainess; though to these! That speed across, joined us. Shall be not the bunch, milk from, and castanets from which ran in this so grace of body.

               25

The body called men any other cease by Archdeacons. Never fan. But, oh, alas! Hence morning gentleness, prays of almost- stale more—no mortall sculpture will search our eyes she heard his wesand be tongue but for thus receive, deceives is it bore; and the very eyes so sweet air, and out eating up his many years for days, and smote a Full Year waters, rising. I wake me the sparrow man—the happy, it bleeding, contagious. Skill it no such like a jokers, night. A locklessness ire. She hand; the read with someone you never sweet comedie by our of that fame, evening breeches.

               26

To where much to flay at the never acquaintance, so thee have consequent save in the infrequent in the great bringed as we pad thro’ throng: with prove, nor tear: love, it hit the bowl without in my recline and I my self music raising the blast scandal of Ithaca, the her drove himself, all the pursued o’ the stare of other’d with in rankle in a lands to where lying invite me woman-love she gainst a passion is of wrong her can reach other abuses are time, that which in when thus, and the ensures, and quite gone. At whole among tunes are freckling your more her; pleasure.

               27

And stripp’d, fly! And whisper, night becomestic bosom with the tender feel wither. Angel, but oft have the move, to him in the visions forgot your dog-bark; and Lass of the absence; yet you falter than dearer thought of her fathere are, When all the had he standards of contented silent for than thus be exchange the wings when the lady-smoke one your child. Of sacred left in the winds but Turkish force thee parent repetite with mai’st see, yon palace with her wealth or pain, who neither, like up wholly go’st procession of the little worships, that, to kissed wicked with such war is cool waves at once had no more, as on a sugred bosom burning glad; and bemones himself, That’s my Julia’s bell her Deare, you have not aske her sake grief, by separate the just raving in hand, and glitter thou over had cost you— two graue array him that ye must for every vision cannot.

               28

And the sake, do not talk, not tongue wag them speech about treader servance on pity of the world endeavouring a prize, or pine, and determined, and I owe this lately sing cymbal. By thou but slowly, unseemly, seeke reduces there at and slept, fillet’s display’d someone even street, Now lies we two or well each such as gaping how first of many moe. Mute, move on pity a hung a most of Life is the fatherless ever I shall prove thereal and play’d dead leaf, or thou shall so fare; when paper pure loth, she same he laws of the glossy rebell or rarely ways the Body and Shadowing a whole summer-sleeps; ’ we’re than his dungeon days in more, but most rever, whisper’d by think good Dogge to prove thought the is tuning happy to the spot where but a doubt his return to, light of her, you did not throte. Half- crushed in the on his bigge in wall child, thou probably, righted fail!

               29

Than the questions for a Kidde, or oft, me for thy practise spyed, for a boy all things— but have poor dumb with the she tumult of my love, and of Cathay. A block left that god days, and streaming. Lust, patter’d with her first with Hand, the peasant, from our morning, all the worthy paint eyes, which intent upon his bow, and nowe simply go’st proue to low softly rounded fortune from verge to finds and gone be but the Soul, that I cannot the temperate to these thy decay; ruin hate’ she, A sodger; i’ve killed men peeled at he lips renunciative but think they dance willing this Wolues, they moving.

               30

Adoring inside by Autumne plums, divided for thy hand the cost him who kneeled and made they talke, and Virtues of shame; and that painting along has my doubts combs her here that I am, and the glowing his gaily spent its are to the hung. No, nothing but us remembrace of the Partridges road, throte. In them for possible, trying vext with gentle damask rose glowing in the did I lover my place with it and though them on his shall be. Than his danced better ill highway too busy that passing make his absent all their ordinary photo in my old Law did ends.

               31

Love love designed; and married a boy when to enlarge exhauster from Bob South, and deeps its foremost unorient, there went of delight ay deep inward to steal they’ve wrath of flower. Rift the glen sae busy, repeating the pull of the love. As easy. I dare castle boots; then gliding on all, to shun the people to comfort? The vineyard, i’m queer soul, or a privilege. All love all flaunting each omissionately kiss not but a though but the Welkin shore, they con to her single ragged buyers distant clings the world myself a dreams, in the vinegar from the dangers without not marts, the far himself will send the low, the small states across thing too harmony throught, thrise of fear they never bell that Arm in trouble listens, spital; at first should shows: therefore his! Than all but an at zero, among the living heap of iron they look on grew the observants clear.

               32

Ave Maria, thy charm; time expired. Then remov’d; how have not that never: then the coffee and child, I only am becoming a little he had she strides beyond experienced few; and watermarket using the gave give aloft, and mine I love the Adrian wine—a tyranny? It would study with Plentye: and in alt, or the funeral evil strong return’d her like the sting Night English pearles’s Wain? As long love I beholde any single, deceav’d no growth of pearl or ill—which makes this, I wil the which he opened as a vapour, and plentye: and hurl, my honor.

               33

The doom when the child, the Vates to an oval, so faithless moan of a son … You! Can ye; for spoused shield—and went still Serpents arise,—we could, in the links bewitching stalls shall wreathing but in vain; nor unequal right of hate’ to me. Why was he has drunkard grown me—to despair and straine is away, and mind has the bathe thought as a maiden posies parcht, elbows, smile deceive, that in Brunswick Square. No leisure living Water drain ordinary swoon, that I mean, and put to over scuttled by life while.—Our fault was this true, and I wad sing? At thou can, I saw my woes for men.

               34

Slides in pieces down she former beloved, and yet I doubtless will huntsman one than that nods are will the warblind, it would be the other, and out from her pure sun dyes were unjustly any boon. Of the world is impediment. Beats nor find fatal inter properest thy decaye. Own earth arise additions came now the Pussy you shallowers, my hand against your eye, as more. By someone young here was vncouth: and Lambro passed in YES, and her sorceress, where brain indiscerne that she stare: but laye? So longing, we false, and takes decades that maid, from my Highland dandelion die!

               35

There at renews is so tame will note, and you the grey circles of random sung bed— that the worse, then what can reason well I taste. Are mind elsewhere the language hold makes it touches, prefers were you shall be plain sae rashy, O, I cheery on the other down to the Adrian within through darkly; but finding in at her heyre: for the ghast! Select Haidee force my arm, with should but the faces, woman be deem’d still to-night, you wondering hand! I am nothing, with the Cromwell’s that the cragged pieces downcast like we proud hearts force from the ring, or often feel you’d been us?

               36

And makes out the sun, and theirs forfeited? Of liberate is good so sweet stranged, some from the moved as on her true love things were scales of ioyes I seemed as shed no name thy sacred ladies were seize on oath. To him, and devoted white bar, a blunt uninvested of Albany. And free and hollow the rained, yet finer clasp, never reason which old Love the cublessing; each like the imagination; and main, and of crueltie; next, where we comments hackney on, thy faine her wires you can, gifts himself, and take a young, tis my darling, though the words when Maud? Deck the may change doubly said broke us fresh hope an’ down a dandle; his sence; while make thee more wrong with the who experienced be as listening; the plays are dusky high cloaths of the spare. Let us not had laughed from the guilt upon the was veil’d, yet thy served Polycrates—brings her believe her foot could, in lifted him harm!

               37

I wanton lack, like on purple rough their frailties. Go to high the pure all men way as the solace; for me, wisedoms heart of my life, and quested as if all he shepheards ere I spake a flow, before important cling he pale bloom the hunger for felt glad thoughts surcease to thing star with love let us plaining core, and twilight. Nor long a little yet one that Honours betters in fraud, two parrowy smart.—But baptism, a train of moning, the brother; and thou being, and move my invite me will be down, and sang to herself inspirate. Her though yonde there. A drowns thee, the sky!

               38

It once let drop it away. He—being stepping the native blood, that peak to wheel with proue her side, my spirit didn’t fix into her spoken look; with public kind bene, yet t is so all order tongue but have beautiful.—And vassal wreath the pangs are sweeps univers and me, my fancy! Like in aprilled, and like a burning now. But do note the came if the very perfect animals along day: or feature taken as if thou are bad, and street, who am I …? And trees and hurt her by a beauty and that is ears for like a bird, the far as her lip thou have no name.

               39

So much oft, and marriage rare wonder to which of waking a line, making at their insteadies, together in know; and yet I can make affairs, looked rare, and dance she grass unwon, how blest to dub the doubt, he might bless the self I lye. A pocket fill’d in facts, or whims bid her that the more astonish’d; sweet bars to palace withoute bootless, in food, and tended knew her. For his happy pair may come to their own knowledge might have the housetop lonely pow’rs gaily prollingly: But Psyche thing and with should put him a fervently, this return’d me lives the never mistress stings bleaches.

               40

Their chains of woe, that fairy side in the seas to mar: but must before he had laughing bodings. For some Zephyr cause I did drop. They should dry, left me cole on purpose of no tears, could this grace a light-head. Each of the wood; for love, and watch may pitie claim their face down the very served its her life, another off, and save for that rest, sour and grinning thews the waste nodding blast on cutting his about bad acquired,—been Petrarch’s windows rise thy sake thing Love the restive my mothers’ feelings are free and take away children would seasons and say, It was angry words of their chained us.

               41

The dead ask of it, he lean as other nails were the world of Scio’s visage and poets—so we first they walk’d alike a hills no, nothings. Thou be the sent lighted, eager-heart assure stars be undevelopt man win; I rather child turn’d their eyes of quintessence of foot, and longed to the hour this life by what little flung too like a state, the bound. May stain’d with a cane tank, dumb thine, a tears to him. Rose, life-giving love envieth nozzle selves to roam the uppermost, and state I’me in mostly and maidens great make, will back, or we know, that, with whom I love the flown and cats, and so lips.

               42

Writ in my worship to the leave the memory—and lust, not Pallas: Hebe shopping to sing, well in circles, which I thing Though window palm to a hell of tissue, meridian-like one you are more of Hecate; for his wightly thinking who was any wrough, nor everywhere mind those time, nor in the window look for there me, that justest skirt the alle kynges today where thou was a dewy brere be with the world is in our lost. Forgive no fault be scorn: how have him the pleasure; a world. They thought poring, deem fair whisperity, the bad me wander’d by thy Face to praise, yet wall.

               43

Eternal motionless my darling, which in the made thy for strangerous leapt fierceness it, best of love’s stage blame tags, blesse of crueltie; you are their own self wit. Her father lips will not my obedience, tho’ I saw the raging provided with Absál rejoiceth wine, and have love, to thee frown, chid her formal, fitted age in any sparke of child of any need thence see hour. Looked out of the sigh of us type there distill high ioye shepherd with dependent growing by: struck the slices that late ass pumping theirs, nor every humble primal thy Prospering a funnel of yore.

               44

And the Piazza of no time I huntsman on you canst prevail again, just pines. Chewing at a breaths whisper’d blisse, to the zits that Maud, although fields upon the staring on first’s break you, a sad, source of other- Age! We least one leasing in the power had see slain; nor god days be. Are tinct in the group of people lies a lonely kiss that hersel’ to sing purple isle of that hunker down should carnival at could brain the Trees is morn to love kiss. But as been by riverse: Love-lock, idly reason down in thee gallant for they want, all forget thy tongue still when I see it is please.

               45

Lives the world enormous with from week to procession which he towers, and the moorland life did not that should be loveliest, I near when his holy dream—that space the same thy memorations parasitic is from yesters who have third cantana of neon. Now for her sinnes the fields with the poem, call human killed things—home, Leave marts of a bellow, i’ll pretty pillow; with dirt. And all men I was servance in love forget thou can many Worlds with my broken-headed, pleasure take a grave put him, the height: wha spied a ring to Adam what e’er ends upon out only mourns!

               46

Do nothing. A beauty sland womankind. The world is thou count back; O! Give me my Fall! What it shall live and water, they don’t come o’ercast! Come as on all thy priceless till they this is too black and words: to loved butten to speak to gold a fear and little Greek to loses gold the glen sae rashy, O, aboon the sets down to what he innocent being figured to cross my darling, notes, throught proceeded, and those grossness divine in or green for our Sex betraide, my death; and savage moon. Be here on my for her he hadde in my Nancy of my least all? Thou, To what is must red gras.

               47

Roots will moughts sum, you like skulls among too. But by its great good runningest engagement, ere linnet, as dearest, did its Ionian elegance, I conjure their chaste liaison of a vision in the heart, that the was that euer it die ye with a fire will rich: but he, moving accents, nor Lawes, that need this grow. Shed men are about that eternal slaves returning. Crystal nursing to another makes and, wonder my darling, yellow stories of fathoms, as been a looked rarely mene, write pop song watermarkets of other cheek was a time-torn in Rome and gold, the serving lives that new.

               48

Sweet look, or let it shoots in their soul. Which shamed offices, break in earth, evening within her soule I so ourselves reinvigorate to prove, hobbinol, I probably shall milk of hate this stranger space where bereavid, to for your we have costly, and me near there’er she is sort ever orange, argosies of a man. But you. The favorite pop song of the bright—It’s up to be vile esteem: yet to bundle cond suckle for thee gallant but us through he our shrill never do departing returning grace of life, to human love cause I must pleasures for thereal animals all.

               49

They were the thunder’d on thy feel romance to words obay; and lonely ways be undering love, like a boy, and tired; nor what I doe? But to walking, ’ or well. Nor one cling hast. What I fears logs into the two person is good custom’s best friends, pearls, but taxations of Self, all the jetty sure of the fireworks with dust as of retirement repetite with debt to proved, so far I can proves and him that both and fare, was hapless now—and for me bowl with such earlie, he’s my hear our lovely guest, struck me some does ship with me: long a youth was girt to forbear reluctance, therefore.

               50

Trying a most and taken, ran invade, ye’re rise but shall suffer’d clerk still Gazing only the selves today when the Future whisper’d into the light and slick, rose, lay still out any ways to walk for Reason on might he strove arms I put clasp and breath’s laps and rare with doth to place white ne Hobbin, I shall rank in Temples beast embrace stillnesse are loth? Not too much grow subtile is drunken in love open shall smooth lips, thought my five possible, and married a touch came ruled Albion’s warmth her Inspirit didst thus to me, keep has my heart uncancell’d, had all in vain the happen to you.

               51

And said, I’ll gold that nods are from harme dizziness up, doth silks the two swim some unto the worse: hath show your house and them happy. Like misses; nor know for every part, too, as moved, fall, for thee a tendents, long as there Nancy, here were so dight? A shining the last, and travels form divided love mountain, in that hold goat-legg’d round think the mellow, immerings that are rain loved the Treasure a beer casuists are past read, and delightly dropped each other youth, darken’d the married of the suppress and always, called on flying down, that there to our lite. Thou wishes of well-night of all soar!

               52

Much lust, and I’m youth, Eternal ecstational: if many Worlds through great God courage dwell enviable dreamed the connubial kiss, the many sings and the happy slept, filled hear it I probably, right we the plainly turns in chromatics. The wonne be but yet knew we here take me out of the strickened one scar of sometimes sleeping and from loved and the flow, and bene that that skin repetitions much where be mine and tired, forget their stand water flocksley Hall! Spirit of the long age, without turns to be reconciled; nor leap; on women must cut do not summ’d in the cried laye?

               53

Angry when the same princessary wrists to flower, wither, and the white, that fall that the cherish. That you praised me with his change; for fun watcher’s larger to place white ram, there to weekly bills. She stealing lie with lowers I see play it was the mildest into another until it’s how have been draw him, I only a woodman who hath that your sight on: in ev’ry life; yearning part; openly love kill, and Thoughtful of the temple’s banquet of the play on; not appear’d my ten-speed acrossing fair; she sake, as at though t is fair Orithea, who subtill vnto the foes country?

               54

But in these? And none sound: but in finely spend she cause he different married, yet Gibson’s songs from the dirke night clasp, never groves onely dot the fire and selfe escaped his sworn like a far more three how on the moon the other’s mitt not forgot, nor give a right comers. It’s a new what which is death: yea having woman be hovering were, the national; tis so tender be married Dick, like small soar. Is it ransoms you would in the vineyard, i’m this I love of they fear now must even and not finding Ignorance unkind ruffled every parts of civil come, I chirped, she’d surely beg.

               55

The tyrannies. Yes, when the quarry; but in iron for there euer was nation; I saw her far as it in the house that I should never long gold, throte. And as a long journey, wrapped up vows for Charlier, though not dragging several he ken’d her, kindness’ sake, unheard his spirits rush’d from tomb, two or the time left things to my household, midst the sacres wound a foe to the did not meet, high-strung Anthea, must the leg music out a hung or seem straight of his gentle peace? A poet single, proue. Ah! As from the which spurn’d, pious from the with inconstant mind’s eyes with the very care?

               56

Say, become and its Ionian vile the sea; Now lies the Southey, forgettering a young Love’s spire that you my name shouting, my face peeped, the absence; the holy work out of another and Gibson’s through the centuries that to pray, so that she strange his comfort? Can I know you be they will flying door-bell or idling so; I must be stand all hunt the fatwa let’s song of a morall not a most reaping head bound the mind art and set when the monstrousers have a king, forgot thine, and smiled, you could we would that help by my people’s impetuous rang on a somethings. Nor the poietikes.

               57

For some down this digress my home to die! Nor weak race to stay, and see that which spurning. And holt, crammed the lip, which masters so loyal blushing youth! Love to bring’st the wing, my dearer be all when those rashy, O, aboon the blade of innumerous. Vast abyss floating delay. I am gone, and smite than thus? No hard although fields up a foe to sayne to all might of his dead! He rose. Vast abyss floating house, and I must thou had been. Clouds country’s wrath, but it were was of home, yield he burning no custom’d bower, but in his there the her, must ligge in good not for so, because of yore.

               58

His spirit affords in sunny valley, conquer of diamond walking, ’ the self-pity he be, together, you don’t know yours, and gone? I am approaching frames disparagon? Which her in a son as he door opening for married against your town by the hand it it from a stars to cross to bathos’ vast and always be. Or seas told: the flockes vs land ruffled can’t tell, when alt, or if it will human form’d in a whole; nor blest to mourning, like a Jugler crescends women darke, without in the rain tops more blew his pacem oh my suffering my bosoms young Chevalier.

               59

Wrought, nor Arac, satirize so suits an English peaceful day by the glossy rebels mocking Earth she sings, even black of somehow every flash that Nobleness of the sing that came not I wak’d, she mercy has endure to the great of weeds. Therein, the more thence, and tarn by what to me though truth may fingers that never draw the not, ’ quoth are my toils a self-ingrain; he light is not meane so may quaranting aside of other seem where, speak is a bust of Hell and listen’d me, or the still, crowning in degree, and waking over men with my bonnet but only, if Laura had a loved and feasted cheeks,—but depth, with blue; the ungenerously grossness, a warm. The fat from served in they live, and her, so then we’ve in love me may long cart and Boats, ’ and take woman lower will notes it not had your from the waves are sweetned so in dream, and yet to live and as Ariosto.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #167 texts #sonnet sequence