Refugium
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Stop laughing in front of the TSA! It's disrespectful! It's unpatriotic! It's subversive! It's introversive! It's perversive!
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“Samael, time for school.” “What?” Samael appeared at the door and brushed some sawdust from his shirt. “Time to learn to read. Now you say you know how to write your name?” “Yessir. Andy.” “Show me.” Ritter held out a pencil and gestured for Samael to sit at the desk. Samael sat and laboriously wrote SAMAEL on the blank paper before him. “Very good. Do you know what the letters are?” “I started learning letters once but I had to stop lessons. I remember some.” “All
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Thanks for bingeing!
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I accidentally pressed the wrong button and published this on Tuesday, pulled it back to publish on my normally scheduled Friday, it showed up in the story updates as if I had posted it Tuesday, and that's more information than anyone needs. Anyway, I'm concerned for all involved, too, but I am happy that Ritter is getting a dose of romance after a long dry spell.
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Hot, too? I suppose that, like all 18-year-olds, he does have a respectable libido.
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Of course, continuing education. The poor boy has never been to school. That's why he knows so little about life and death.
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Ritter woke in his own bed, Sammy’s outflung hand tickling his cheek. He gently removed Sammy’s hand and shook his shoulder. “Morning.” Samael breathed deeply and opened an eye. “Morning. I wondered when you were going to wake up, sleepyhead.” “Liar. You were dead to the world.” “Only because I fell asleep again waiting for you.” “How are you feeling?” Samael touched Ritter’s chest. “I think I still have some Hell left in me.” “I thought I fucked all of that out of
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Yeah, Ike, don't hold back. Tell us what you really think. Always the life of the party.
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Wicked indeed. But mostly offstage.
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Yes, indeed! And China Mary was a real person! Of course, Tombstone was a still a small town at this point. You could hardly take a walk without falling into someone's silver mine. A few years later, though, there were 14,000 inhabitants.
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Through the front window, Ritter watched Samael disappear down the street, then walked to his office and sat at his desk in a daze. His head was still heavy and slow. He muttered, “What have I done?” again and again. Whispered imaginings harried his brain — the sounds of gossip, derision, repugnance. They grew louder and circled toward the center. Finally he screamed at them, “Shut up!” He looked at the breakfast still on his desk, barely touched. He set his plate of potatoes down, br
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I have my theories about Mr. Ritter's downfall, but they are only theories. I've combed through newspaper articles of the time without finding definitive answers. (According to one, "He was simply a victim of his own weakness, generosity and carelessness.") Naturally, what I will be writing will not be history, but a fiction rooted in history. As for characterizing a young man as a temptation, well, that's just psychological projection. We have endured centuries of straight men portraying women as temptresses when they have only their own hormone-soaked brains to blame. Nevertheless, there is something odd about Samael.
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And there's lots more evil, hope, wanting, ruination, fear and love to come!
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"Love don't make things nice. It ruins everything... We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die." --Ronny Cammareri, Moonstruck Inspirational words, even if they do come from Nicholas Cage.
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Yes, and at 39, it's about time Mr. Ritter grew up. After all, what could go wrong?
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Sunday, November 13, 1881 Ritter opened one eye a fraction, testing it against the searing daylight. He heard whistling downstairs. Was that what had awakened him? He closed the eye again, promising himself to try re-opening it in a few days when it wasn’t so bright in the world outside his eyelids. Reaching up one hand, he checked his head for blunt trauma, but felt no blood. He checked for rodents that might have crawled into his mouth and died, but found none. No dust storm in there
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After the G.A.R. Meeting Was Over
Refugium commented on Refugium's story chapter in After the G.A.R. Meeting Was Over
It's true! Most embalming was done in the home! Really puts the pressure on not to spill. I'm glad you like my contribution to the many parodies of the Battle Hymn of the Republic. I truly admire the elegance of "I bopped her on the bean with a rotten tangerine" in the "burning of the school" version. -
After the G.A.R. Meeting Was Over
Refugium commented on Refugium's story chapter in After the G.A.R. Meeting Was Over
I prefer to think that he had the sobriety goggles off. -
Over the next few days, Ritter and Samael established a routine. They set up a cookstove on the covered porch in back and a small icebox for perishables. Samael usually cooked breakfast and often lunch, and Ritter took them out for dinner. Many of the smaller, lighter woodworking supplies were kept upstairs, so Samael was often passing Ritter on the stairs. Ritter remained affable but a little distant, and whatever Samael searched for in his face remained hidden. They had agreed on a wage o
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Visits in the Afternoon and Confessions in the Night
Refugium commented on Refugium's story chapter in Visits in the Afternoon and Confessions in the Night
And there are so many kinds of hell. And back. -
Visits in the Afternoon and Confessions in the Night
Refugium commented on Refugium's story chapter in Visits in the Afternoon and Confessions in the Night
Well, he was going to Hell anyway. Might as well have company. -
Visits in the Afternoon and Confessions in the Night
Refugium commented on Refugium's story chapter in Visits in the Afternoon and Confessions in the Night
Oh, until about next Friday. -
Visits in the Afternoon and Confessions in the Night
Refugium posted new chapter in The Undertaker's Devil
Early in the morning, Ritter lay awake, listening for any small sound. He heard the soft click of the front doorknob and wondered if that was Samael leaving for good, a thought which filled him with relief and sadness. But not long afterward the door opened again. Ritter rose and looked downstairs. Samael was carrying a small bag and what looked like a bundle of rags. “What’s that, Sammy?” Startled, Samael clutched the bundle tight. “Oh, I left my things by one of the livery stabl- 7 comments
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"We shall see." -- Raoul to Abe Simpson in Miami, season 15 episode 18
