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Engel's blog

 
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Looking for a skilled mutant hunter

a small note, written on a typewritter, is pinned on New Flagstaff pond area tree:

 

Looking for a

=SKILLED MUTANT HUNTER=

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Sunset that is bound to happen

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It crawled beneath my veins, and now I don't care
I had no luck, I don't miss it all that much

 

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Heart-shaped bloodstain


Some people say a man is made outta mud, a poor man's made outta muscle and blood
Muscle and blood and skin and bones, a mind that's weak and a back that's strong


 

I was dragging my injured legs down the road, really high on a mix of painkillers and gin, when I hear two voices behind me:

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Cool cats, melting away

The good aspect of doing recreational drug testing is that it puts a lot of things into perspective. One moment you find that seam on your pants oh so interesting that you are able to spend around twenty minutes poking it (not that time matters much when you are high), and the next moment there is this guy threatening you: "Oh, shrug just one more time (I dare you), we have a serious breach of security!" And I'm like: "It's just a job, chill man."

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A taste of vanilla

Rating:


Beau Tavern, yesterday

"Are you tired of freedom?" - she asks me, her voice... like a drug.

She makes your skin crawl in all the right places and it is just the right amount of wrong. Maybe a hint over the right amount. Yeah definitely in the region of wrong now when I think about it. Wrapped up in leather, you can feel her skin stretched, like that skin of a dead animal she is wearing. And just a grain of sweat. What is that.... vanilla?

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Letter of recommendation

*letter was written on an old typewritter:

Grand Canyon
New Flagstaff
Jack Ofalltrades

Dear Mr. Ofalltrades,

As a long time friend and colleague, I am writing to you in support of Ms. C.C. and her desire to apply for a job position you might have for her.

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Journal entry

(Bellow is a decrypted version of the entry in Engel's journal)

 

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Stillborn & Dazed

Rating:

(could be considered mature reading)

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You can't come down to earth
You're swelling up, you're unstoppable


LifeNet bunker NF-3, morning

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Will the simple truth be enough to explain it all? 1/2

back

I can't get these memories out of my mind
And some kind of madness has started to evolve
I tried so hard to let you go
But some kind of madness is swallowing me whole, yeah

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The Ballad

Rating:

( 99,99% of this is taken from the song by Nick Cave. I just felt it is a great Canyon story (and part of "grim tales") and I am sharing it here with some minor adjustments. Feel the drama building up and exploding towards the end. Also, semi-NSFW image bellow. )


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Pauper's grave (semi-OOC)

canyon

*a lengthy note without a title or signature is pinned to NF's bulletin board:

 

It might be late but better late than never
we used up all the cliches and our stories have run dry.
But we were your muse and your love and enemy
everything you wanted, we gave - Don't put us in a pauper's grave.

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karma (3/3)

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At the narrow passage, there is no brother and no friend.
Bedouin saying

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karma (2/3)

k

 When you sleep in a house your thoughts are as high as the ceiling, when you sleep outside they are as high as the stars.

 Bedouin saying

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karma (1/3)

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"The lightly burdened shall be saved." 

Bedouin saying

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Unread page

 

In a diary we place our beautiful thoughts. And, secretly, we hope someone will read it and say: "this is a beautiful mind."

...

As it seems, the apocalypse is nigh. Nobody will ever read this so we can finally have some sincerity on these pages. It's like dancing with yourself. Have you noticed? When you dance, and you know that nobody is watching - you close your eyes. Because you don't care. You are the biggest critic you will ever have. You are the biggest admirer you will ever have.

Let's dance then. Let's be sincere. Nobody can read this.

...

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the king of apocalypse

Rating:

His name was Mali. It's more like a nickname. He was a nobody, but one morning when the electricity, phones and television disappeared... his time came.

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Dust

Rating:

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You don't want to hurt me,
But see how deep the bullet lies.

 

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withdrawal

Rating:

 Devon Township - too late  

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A test

Keywords:


 Devon Township - another dawn 

When you expect trouble - there will be none. And when you are relaxed, they will sucker punch you. Maybe working in a team is not that different than being alone 'cause when the day is done you will either get stabbed or back stabbed. It's the same. And if, when the day is done, you somehow come out clean then... you don't matter, man.

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Reunited

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"Under and behind and inside everything I took for granted, something horrible has been growing."
Chuck Palahniuk

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The curious case of officer Colt

 Devon Township, dusk 

My partner is a guy named Colt. Despite being slandered as someone who is madder than the rest of us, I found him honest and easy to work with. Even though I could never picture him doing a policeman's job properly, it's not hard for me to imagine his positive methods working better than clubs and flashy deathray guns. In fact, I cannot think of anything that would put my partner down. He seems indestructible.

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8 days and 7 fingers to go

 Devon Township, late night  

A bald guy is sitting at the table of a local bar with an empty can of Orange Fizzydrink in his hand, and an expecting stare from the barkeep on his back. The night descended so quickly, and somewhere out there, someone is screaming in pain. There is a yellow folder marked "14-7" next to the bleak map of Northfields on the table. There is also a ballpoint pen with a logo of "Kingman Tires" and a black leather bound journal, closed.

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A shot at an honest job

Keywords:

 Devon Township, a quiet morning  

I never had this. A radio in my backpocket. A simple way out. Click - come help me - click. So easy. A crew that would shoot and kill just to protect one of its own. This changed my perception about most of the guys that I always thought so cool in the past. Being a member of a large crew is so much easier than being on your own in this forgotten desert. I was so stupid. I was not doing it right... all this time.

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Shared memories

SE
  Listen to the tales and romanticize,  
  How we'd follow the path of the hero. 

It's raining outside and in a rare moment of clarity, Engel manages to find a piece of the puzzle.

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The ghost who walks

Rating:

 Linewood, Plateau  

Linewood is a town under siege.

No, that ain't right.

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Orange mesa

  Great things are done when men and mountains meet. 

As the climber reaches out with sore hands, desperate for a good hold, he has a feeling that he forgot something that is burdening him down, dragging him back. How long was he climbing this crumbling mesa? Must be hours.

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Distant harvest

The crusted concrete road under his feet was still warm from the sun, even though the daylight was long gone, leaving the moon as his only companion. Step by step, he was walking to nowhere, away from the town. Is this what he wanted, an excuse to leave? No. Not yet. He wasn't ready. He managed to score the wheels and some other things on his checklist, but not all of them. And now, as things were put in fast forward he found himself on the road, on foot, with a bag on his back, three blue chips in his torn pocket, and lips burning.

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Web of alliances

( Entry in Engel's journal so everything is OOC. Bellow is a decrypted version. Please note that writing is subjective. ))

-------------------------

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K-Radio

     No reason to get excited, The thief he kindly spoke  
 There are many here among us, Who feel that life is but a joke 

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by Dr. Radut