My Thoughts on the Gray Grave Discourse
An Uncanny Story for STSC Symposium: Fiction III
It happens sometimes. Maybe once or twice a decade some small town frontier police find “the bodies.” I can’t recall a single incident where they are complete skeletons, it’s always pieces — skulls mixed up in a pile here, femurs scattered over acreage often publicly owned. If you were to tell me another New Mexican rural mass murderer had been found, I’d guess about 12-20 victims.
When a serial killer is found in the suburbs, it’s always like three or four victims. The victims are known tragedies: missing children or mothers, or family of the killer. The news shows stunned faces of next door neighbors, yadda yadda “He was really quiet”… These rural ones, their neighbors don’t get interviewed. The camera crews don’t arrive. You learn about the event not through the Albuquerque Journal or Santa Fe New Mexican but rather something called something like “The East New Mexico Frontiersman’s Guiding Star” that is about 16 folded pages and a stripped down, 90s era website.
Nevertheless everyone knows about the case just as well as if it was reported on the 9 o’clock CBS evening news. “Who are the victims?” never generates names, much less cheerful but bent and battered pictures of grinning innocence. After a wait of a few weeks you get that one follow-up article from the Guiding Star, a quarter as long as the original discovery article: sex workers, migrants, one hobo from Atlanta who ran away from his family twenty years ago.
The weirder news is not the killer or victims, but rather the serial killers’ wives, family, accomplices. Toothless hags living in filth and apparently just fine with helping out or at the very least accepting the killer dragging the body through the kitchen to dismember it. The Guiding Star never, not once, shows the face of the serial killer; it’s always the photograph of the wife. The household itself looks fairly normal, but poor. The wife looks generally unwell, but also like she’d snap a person in two if they poked at her too much. The camera, therefore, keeps its distance. She glowers.
This news is interesting to you precisely once: the first time you read about it. Normally you’ll forget about it until another one crops up in 5-10 years. Which is why the Gray Grave event was so peculiar. It really shouldn’t have set off all this interest.
F⃣ I⃣ L⃣ T⃣ H⃣
“🅷🅼.”
🅃🄷🄴 🄲🄾🄵🄵🄴🄴 🅂🄿🄻🄰🅃🅃🄴🅁🄴🄳 🄾🅅🄴🅁 🅃🄷🄴 🄳🄸🄽🄴🅁 🅃🄰🄱🄻🄴. 🄷🄴 🄿🅄🄻🄻🄴🄳 🅃🄷🄴 🄲🅄🄿 🄰🅆🄰🅈 🄰🄽🄳 🅆🄸🄿🄴🄳 🄷🄸🅂 🅆🄴🅃 🄹🄾🅆🄻🅂.
The waitress rose over his shoulder, sponged the coffee up with a rag stained of coffees decades yore.
“🅵🅸🅽🅸🆂🅷 🆂🆆🅰🅻🅻🅾🆆🅸🅽🅶 🅱🅴🅵🅾🆁🅴 🆈🅾🆄 🆂🅿🅴🅰🅺.”
🄷🄴 🄿🄻🄰🄲🄴🄳 🄰 🄵🄸🅅🄴🅁 🄳🄾🅆🄽, 🅂🄷🄰🄺🄸🄽🄶 🅆🄸🅃🄷 🄰🄽🄶🄴🅁.
They scraped the ground with their creaky chairs. They were old, tired. As dry and yellow as the plainsland outside. They hobbled to the exit. The waitress wished them a good day. They had been here many times before.
Out in the parking lot sat their Thunderbird. They crawled in like children mounting stools: inelegantly.
🄷🄴 🄿🅄🅃 🅃🄷🄴 🅁🄾🄳 🅆🄴 🅆🄾🅄🄻🄳 🄲🄰🄻🄻 🄰 🄺🄴🅈 🄸🄽 🅃🄷🄴 🄷🄾🄻🄴 🅆🄴 🅆🄾🅄🄻🄳 🄲🄰🄻🄻 🅃🄷🄴 🄸🄶🄽🄸🅃🄸🄾🄽. 🅃🄷🄴 🅃🄷🅄🄽🄳🄴🅁🄱🄸🅁🄳 🅁🄾🄰🅁🄴🄳 🅃🄾 🄻🄸🄵🄴, 🄱🅄🅃 🄽🄾🅃 🅆🄸🅃🄷 🅃🄷🄴 🅂🄾🅄🄽🄳 🅆🄴 🅆🄾🅄🄻🄳 🄲🄰🄻🄻 🄰🄽 🄴🄽🄶🄸🄽🄴.
𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕤𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥. 𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡, 𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕒 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕣𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖, 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪, 𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖, 𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤. 𝕊𝕦𝕓𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟, 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥’𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤.
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 “𝕟𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕓𝕠𝕣” 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝟚𝟘 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕔𝕜. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕘𝕠 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕔𝕙, 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕚𝕘 ℙ𝕒𝕡𝕒’𝕤 ℝ𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕖 𝟞𝟞 𝔻𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕣, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕙 𝕤𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕖. 𝕎𝕙𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕜𝕤 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕘𝕠 𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕? ℙ𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪’𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖.
𝕀 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕊𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕒, ℕ𝕄 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣. 𝔹𝕚𝕘 ℙ𝕒𝕡𝕒’𝕤 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕃𝕦𝕓𝕓𝕠𝕔𝕜.
𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖. 𝕀𝕥’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕒𝕪 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 ‘𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕡 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕣’ 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖’𝕤 𝕟𝕠 𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪.
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕚𝕒 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕖, 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕜. 𝕀 𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕜𝕤 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕨𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕫𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕒𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕪 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦.
𝔻𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤.
The third article from the Guiding Star was the one that went viral and, later, syndicated in national newspapers. The Clens’ home was burnt down. The state police were now involved, and were rumored to be bringing in the FBI or DEA.
Look, as New Mexicans post-Breaking Bad, we’ve grown pretty immune to meth lab jokes, but let’s be clear that meth labs don’t burn for 23 days straight.
And I’m a curious person, I had to do a lot of research to find out, and the answer is no, meth does not burn in such brilliant colors.
ꀤ꓄'ꌗ ꀤꈤ꓄ꂦ꒒ꍟꋪꍏꌃ꒒ꍟ ꓄ꃅꍏ꓄ ꓄ꃅꍟꌗꍟ ꉣꍟꂦꉣ꒒ꍟ ꅏꂦꀎ꒒ꀸ ꉣꂦꀘꍟ ꓄ꃅꍟꀤꋪ ꅏꍟꍏꌗꍟ꒒꒒ꌩ ꒒ꀤ꓄꓄꒒ꍟ ꈤꂦꌗꍟꌗ ꀤꈤ꓄ꂦ ꂦꀎꋪ ꌃꀎꌗꀤꈤꍟꌗꌗ.
W⃣ h⃣ a⃣ t⃣ d⃣ o⃣ y⃣ o⃣ u⃣ w⃣ a⃣ n⃣ t⃣ m⃣ e⃣ t⃣ o⃣ d⃣ o⃣ ?⃣
ꌩꂦꀎ ꌗꃅꂦꀎ꒒ꀸ ꃅꍏꃴꍟ ꁅꂦ꓄꓄ꍟꈤ ꋪꀤꀸ ꂦꎇ ꓄ꃅꍟ ꁅꋪꍏꃴꍟ. ꈤꂦꅏ ꓄ꃅꍟꋪꍟ ꍏꋪꍟ ꅏꃅꍏ꓄ ꓄ꃅꍟꌩ ꉓꍏ꒒꒒ '꓄ꂦꀎꋪꀤꌗ꓄ꌗ' ꍏꋪꂦꀎꈤꀸ.
“🆃🅷🅴🆈 🅷🅰🆅🅴 🅼🅴🅲🅷🅰🅽🅸🅲🅰🅻 🅴🆈🅴🆂 🆆🅰🆃🅲🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅰🆃 🅰🅻🅻 🅷🅾🆄🆁🆂.”
𝕎𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤. 𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕕𝕪 𝕋𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕞? ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖 ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕞?
𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕚𝕗 𝕒 𝕤𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕨𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕪, 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕟𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕤’ 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕤, 𝕜𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕟𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖. 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕔𝕪?
𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕓𝕚𝕘 𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠, 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖’𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕤𝕒𝕪 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘. ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕦𝕣𝕓𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕡 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜? ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕟𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕤’ 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤, 𝕠𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕓𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘?
𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝔹𝕦𝕥𝕥𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜 ℕ𝕠𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖, ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕄𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕔𝕠 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠’𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝕔𝕒𝕣 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕒𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕤, 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕒 𝕣𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 T҉h҉u҉n҉d҉e҉r҉b҉i҉r҉d҉ 𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕟𝕜 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪…
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↵↵↵ Hey I didn’t hear about the T҉h҉u҉n҉d҉e҉r҉b҉i҉r҉d҉ , tell me more about that.
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↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵ 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥?
↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵ You mentioned …. oh well you deleted it from your post. nm.
↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵↵ 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥, 𝕀’𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕣 𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘.
R⃣ E⃣ L⃣ E⃣ A⃣ S⃣ E⃣ M⃣ E⃣
“🅸 🅲🅰🅽🅽🅾🆃 🅰🅻🅻🅾🆆 🆈🅾🆄🆁 🅲🆄🆁🆁🅴🅽🆃 🅲🅾🆄🆁🆂🅴 🅾🅵 🅰🅲🆃🅸🅾🅽.”
R⃣ E⃣ L⃣ E⃣ A⃣ S⃣ E⃣ M⃣ E⃣ !⃣
🄷🄴 🄱🄰🄽🄶🄴🄳 🄷🄸🅂 🄷🄴🄰🄳 🄰🄶🄰🄸🄽🅂🅃 🅃🄷🄴 🄿🄾🅂🅃 🅄🄽🅃🄸🄻 🅂🄿🄻🄸🄽🅃🄴🅁🅂 🅂🄻🄸🄳 🄸🄽🅃🄾 🄷🄸🅂 🄲🅁🄰🄽🄸🅄🄼.
ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ⁱⁿ ʳᵉᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰⁱᵖᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᴹᵒⁿᵈᵃʸ, ᴬᵘᵍᵘˢᵗ ¹¹ᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵇ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ¹⁹ˣ ˢᵏᵘˡˡ ᶠʳᵃᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ, ¹⁶ˣ ˢᵗᵉʳⁿᵘᵐ ᶠʳᵃᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ, ²²² ʳⁱᵇˢ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᶠⁱᵛᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒˣ ᵒᶠ ⁶⁰⁰ ˢᵒᵐᵉ⁻ᵒᵈᵈ ᵛᵉʳᵗⁱᵇʳᵃᵉ ⁱⁿ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʷᵉ’ʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈᵉᵗᵉʳᵐⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᶠ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ˢᵉᵖᵃʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉˢ, ¹⁷ˣ ᵃⁿᵗᵉʳⁱᵒʳ ᵖᵉˡᵛᵉˢ, ¹⁵ˣ ᵖᵒˢᵗᵉʳⁱᵒʳ ᵖᵉˡᵛᵉˢ, ⁴⁸ ʰᵘᵐᵉʳⁱ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵒⁿˡʸ ¹ ⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ, ³⁷ ˢᶜᵃᵖᵘˡᵃᵉ ⁽?⁾ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ³⁶ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ⁽??⁾, ⁴⁵ ᶜˡᵃᵛⁱᶜˡᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵒⁿˡʸ ³ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ, ⁷⁶ ᵘˡⁿᵃᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ¹⁸ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ, ⁶⁹ ʳᵃᵈⁱⁱ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵒⁿˡʸ ⁵ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ⁽?⁾, ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒˣ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃʳᵖᵉˡˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵉᵗᵃᶜᵃʳᵖᵃˡˢ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʷᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒˣ ᵒᶠ ᵖʰᵃˡᵃⁿᵍᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʷᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁵⁰⁰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵃˡᶠ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ, ³⁶ ᶠᵉᵐᵘʳˢ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ³² ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ, ³⁵ ᶠⁱᵇᵘˡᵃᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ³⁰ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ, ³⁷ ᵗⁱᵇᵘˡᵃᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ³³ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ⁽ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᵇʲᵉᶜᵗˢ ʷᵉʳᵉⁿ’ᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵒʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵍˢ ᵃˢ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ KKKKK⁾, ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒˣ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵃʳˢⁱ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵉᵗᵃᵗᵃʳˢᵃˡˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁴⁵⁰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒˣ ᵒᶠ ᵖʰᵃˡᵃⁿᵍᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵗ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʷᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁵⁵⁰ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ. ᴬⁿᵈ ʷᵉ’ʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵒʳᵈⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵘⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ, ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁹⁵⁰ ⁱⁿ ᵃˡˡ, ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ ⁿᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ⁽?⁾.
ᵂᵉ’ᵛᵉ, ᶠʳᵃⁿᵏˡʸ, ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᶠᶠⁱᶜᵘˡᵗʸ ⁱⁿ ᵐᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶜʳᵒˢˢ ˢᵏᵉˡᵉᵗᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵃᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ʳᵉᵍᵃʳᵈˡᵉˢˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉⁿᵉˢˢ ᵒʳ ᶠʳᵃᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ. ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ KKKKK ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵃᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ²⁰ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ KKKKKˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵘⁿᵈʳᵉᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ. ᵀʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˡᵉᵃᵈ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ KKKKKˢ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʰᵘᵐᵃⁿ ᵃᵈᵘˡᵗˢ ᵒⁿ ᵃᵛᵉʳᵃᵍᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ ⁴⁰⁻⁶⁰ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵒˡᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵃᵛᵉʳᵃᵍᵉ, ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵒʳ ᵃᵈᵒˡᵉˢᶜᵉⁿᵗˢ. F҉i҉n҉a҉l҉l҉y҉,҉ ҉o҉f҉ ҉t҉h҉e҉ ҉t҉e҉e҉t҉h҉,҉ ҉a҉l҉m҉o҉s҉t҉ ҉a҉l҉l҉ ҉a҉r҉e҉ ҉i҉n҉c҉i҉s҉o҉r҉s҉,҉ ҉a҉ ҉f҉e҉w҉ ҉a҉r҉e҉ ҉c҉a҉n҉i҉n҉e҉,҉ ҉a҉n҉d҉ ҉t҉h҉e҉r҉e҉ ҉a҉r҉e҉ ҉n҉o҉ ҉m҉o҉l҉a҉r҉s҉ ҉o҉r҉ ҉p҉r҉e҉m҉o҉l҉a҉r҉s҉.҉
ᴮʸ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰⁱᵖᵐᵉⁿᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ ˡᵃᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵃᵗᵉˡˡᵃᵉ ⁽ᵒʳ ᵏⁿᵉᵉᶜᵃᵖˢ⁾. ᵂᵃˢ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰⁱᵖᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ʷᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵒⁿᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵉ?
𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖’𝕤 𝕟𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖’𝕤 𝕟𝕠 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕪. 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.
↵
↵↵Have you been back there? What’s it like?
↵↵↵ℕ𝕠, 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪. 𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕠. 𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕.
“Chuck, all these beaners deck out their rides with hydraulics and shit.”
“No Steve, this wasn’t hydraulics. The Շ̵̺͇̥̈́̏̈́̈́̅͆ђ̷̠͈̣̩̣̮̣͐̄̂͋̔̀̈̈͠ย̵̦̬͍̇̈́͠ภ̷̧̞͍̾͝๔̶̦̐̔̚є̶̧̨̜͇̬̣̣̹̥͈̿͛̚г̶̢̜̤͙̟̯̭̹̚͝๒̸̨̞̘͖̭̳͆̎̓̚͠เ̴̰̮̭̹͚̲̱̀̄̔͊̀ͅг̷͉̞̹͙̰͍̥̌͆̓̈́̈̑͜͜๔̸̨̗̠̬̼̪͔̈́̉ could fly.”
“The what?”
“What?”
“You need a break from this case, bro. Shit’s getting to your head.”
“Yeah well. About the ‘beaners’, only three families in Saltia are Mexican American and none of them own a hotrod, so why don’t you investigate what information we have and not your stupid prejudices?”
“You getting woke, bro?”
“Fuck off. I have a ร̸̜̘̰̥̯̈́͌͆̏͐̽͜͝͝͠ק̸͓̗̦̰͒̄̊ɭ̶͍̳̺̤̤̃̉เ̵̥͓͛̂͛̎͒̀̐͠͝Շ̷͉͐͊̋̋̀̃̀̚̚Շ̴̮̟̯̄̑͊̾̈́̆͐͜͜͝เ̴̧͎̩̟̣̯̪̃ภ̶̧̥̺͇̪͇͕͑̇́̓̈́͜͠ﻮ̸͖̺̮̞́ ̶̣̗͎͈̮͑̒̌̏̓̀͗̊͋̕ђ̴̧̠̭͔̈́є̴̤͋̃̌̉̈ค̸̧̲̙͔̜̠͆͒̑̏̅̚͘ͅ๔̷̤͚̭̼̥̃̒̉͂̑̽̀̃͝ค̶̛̮̖̺͈̳̆̍̂̾̑̎̾͘ς̶̯̮͋ђ̴͇͌̑͌́̀є̸̰̘̀̿̋͊̓͛̿͆̕̚ and you’re not helping.”
“What?”
“I said fuck off.”
“No man, I mean what? You’re talking weird, bro. Like rocks in your mouth. You need to get some fucking sleep.”
The fourth article was about the headaches.
Saltia was a town of only about 100 people, suddenly needing to accommodate about 200 additional visitors per month, who racked up all the vacant units on the 36 room hotel two towns over and otherwise set up camp around the ‘Main Street’ of Saltia, which was nothing more than the church, Big Papa’s, and the post office with a shared parking lot.
Regardless of old timer or visitor, people started complaining of a strange buzzing, a buzzing that was both a noise and a sensation, flying by and sometimes over them at night. Night observers swore it was like a hyperlapse of a car driving by, but the state police set up a speed camera and security detail, and no one could ever capture an image of it.
It always seemed to ‘appear’ after it had passed, but before anyone had the chance to grasp that they were seeing it.
But anyone who saw it reported massive migraines, and some even experienced nausea and vomiting.
These media events are pure Americana, underlying our reliance of magical thinking and the spontaneity and possibility of the frontier as a hyperobject in which everything can be real but nothing can be true.
↵ 𝔾𝕠𝕕, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕, 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕟𝕠𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕒.
E⃣ X⃣ I⃣ T⃣
“🆆🅴 🆁🅴🆂🆃🆁🅰🅸🅽 🆈🅾🆄 🅱🅴🅲🅰🆄🆂🅴 🆈🅾🆄 🅻🅰🅲🅺 🆁🅴🆂🆃🆁🅰🅸🅽🆃.”
🄷🄴 🄱🅁🄾🄺🄴 🅃🄷🄴 🄱🄾🄽🄳🅂 🅆🄸🅃🄷 🄷🄸🅂 🄼🄸🅂🅂🄷🄰🄿🄴🄽 🄰🄽🄳 🄱🄻🄴🄴🄳🄸🄽🄶 🄷🄴🄰🄳.
͓̽҉͓̽⊥͓̽҉͓̽I͓̽҉͓̽X͓̽҉͓̽Ǝ
𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞, 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕝𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪. 𝕀𝕥'𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.
Personally, I would prefer New Mexico be known for something a little more positive, a little more optimistic. It’s really a beautiful place with a lot of cool things to do, but people tend not to know much about what goes on there unless some weird bad thing hits the news. Otherwise the people are ignored.
It reminds me of the time I was telling a friend here in New York about how Breaking Bad really improved recognition of New Mexico as a state, because before then I’d commonly be asked, “Do you need a passport to visit the US?” “How are you white?” or offered the unhelpful, “You speak English well though.” When I finished telling him that, he said,
"𝚂𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙼𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚜?"
Even Oppenheimer didn’t really help.
"ᴏʜ ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴍʙ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴʜᴀᴛᴛᴀɴ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ʜɪꜱᴘᴀɴᴏ ʜᴏᴍᴇꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ?"
Or anytime I want to talk science fiction,
Ｏｆ ｃｏｕｒｓｅ ｙｏｕ ｗｏｕｌｄ， ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｌｉｋｅ ｆｒｏｍ Ｒｏｓｗｅｌｌ ｏｒ ｓｏｍｅｔｈｉｎｇ？
↵ 𝕐𝕖𝕤 𝕀'𝕞 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝. 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕥? 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕌𝔽𝕆 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕟 𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥, 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤. 𝕀 𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝔸𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕪. ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕜𝕖𝕤.
deep skies
no dawn
long night
red earth
a long long long drive between Roswell and Cline's Corners
90mph windows down
headlights off
moonlight
and terrified, galloping deerᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˡᵃʸᵉᵈ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ⁱⁿqᵘⁱʳʸ.
ᵁⁿᶠᵒʳᵗᵘⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵇ ⁱˢ ʳᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵈᵉᵃˢ. ᴺᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴰᴺᴬ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃᶜᵗˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ KKKKKˢ ˡⁱⁿᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸ ᶜʳⁱᵐⁱⁿᵃˡ ᵒʳ ᵐⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿˢ’ ᵈᵃᵗᵃᵇᵃˢᵉ. ᴺᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ʳᵉˢᵘˡᵗˢ ᵒⁿ ᵉᵗʰⁿⁱᶜⁱᵗʸ ᵒʳ ᵒʳⁱᵍⁱⁿ. ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵃᵇᵘˡᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢ. ᴺᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ KKKKKˢ ᶠⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ.
ᶠʳᵃⁿᵏˡʸ ʷᵉ’ʳᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉʸ’ʳᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ KKKKK, ᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵍᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃˡᶜⁱᵘᵐ ᵖʰᵒˢᵖʰᵃᵗᵉ.
ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ? ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ʷᵉ’ᵛᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉʷˢ. ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵖᵉʳᵗʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ?
It’s important to acknowledge that the media didn’t start talking about the Gray Grave event until white people started complaining about headaches — in the desert. Apparently a mass grave of sex workers and immigrants isn’t as important as people forgetting that they need to drink water.
↵ 𝕎𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕕𝕦𝕞𝕓 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕖. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕪 𝕘𝕒𝕨𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕖𝕗𝕥, 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕙𝕦𝕘𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕡.
𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕤.
↵↵ Hey, I have a question. Did they ever figure out who the victims were though?
↵↵↵ 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕤, 𝕒𝕤 𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕦𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝, 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕜 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕣𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘.
↵↵↵↵ No, but like, sorry for asking, it’s just that you’re the only commenter I know who knows the area and has been there. So I’m just wondering, do they know who the ๒⃝ ̵⃝ ͆⃝ ̈⃝ ͒⃝ ̏⃝ ̃⃝ ͗⃝ ͒⃝ ͛⃝ ̮⃝ ͔⃝ ̦⃝ ๏⃝ ̴⃝ ̔⃝ ̅⃝ ̆⃝ ̀⃝ ̉⃝ ̔⃝ ̂⃝ ̆⃝ ̉⃝ ̅⃝ ͖⃝ ̘⃝ ͉⃝ ̢⃝ ภ⃝ ̷⃝ ̽⃝ ̂⃝ ̋⃝ ̍⃝ ͂⃝ ̄⃝ ͋⃝ ͋⃝ ̂⃝ ͔⃝ ̜⃝ ̠⃝ ͕⃝ ͅ⃝ ͖⃝ ̘⃝ є⃝ ̸⃝ ̓⃝ ̂⃝ ͉⃝ ͕⃝ ̦⃝ ͕⃝ ̜⃝ ̘⃝ ͉⃝ ̗⃝ ͕⃝ ร⃝ ̴⃝ ̍⃝ ́⃝ ̿⃝ ͠⃝ ̍⃝ ̐⃝ ̓⃝ ͍⃝ ̪⃝ ͓⃝ ̣⃝ ̲⃝ ̻⃝ ̜⃝ ̜⃝ ͓⃝ belonged to?
The Southwest is just a great place to create a cult. The thing is, you can plant a few bunkers somewhere, there’s tons of space, no one else is around, and the winters are super mild. As long as you can grow a minimum of food and keep running water you’re good to go.
And those big, open, infinite skies. Easy to see how they’d create a spiritual or religious fervor.
I have to admit I’ve never really heard of an entire town just leaving before, but there are a couple few ghost towns around New Mexico I used to visit during my urbex days. I mean it’s sort of the culture there, you get started by visiting Ghost Ranch and a few abandoned Pueblo sites, soon you’re donning K-95 masks to break into desiccated shacks outside Madrid, and then further environs.
(Speaking of which, my recommendation is to wear gloves and long pants and definitely be careful of what you touch and shower afterwards. On the East Coast, urbex risk is largely asbestos and mold. In New Mexico it’s hantavirus and bubonic plague. Seriously, we get like a couple-three cases of literal plague showing up every few years.)
Not gonna lie, I’m thinking of checking out Saltia in my next visit, though it’s really far from my usual romping grounds. I might as well drive back to the East Coast and visit Saltia on my way into Texas.
That said I asked some of my urbex buddies about whether they checked out the Gray Grave, and for some reason everyone in the community there are adamantly opposed to visiting the site.
The Gray Grave event is nothing short of a Late Capitalist resurgence of community displacement in liminal frontier geographies. Whether the sudden expulsion of the inhabitants from the town was due to an ecological fallout from nuclear or biological weapons testing, as some on the left suppose, or FEMA appropriating land from sovereign citizens, as argued by the right, or the various countercultural conspiracy theories that proliferated in Discord and mrc boards, Gray Grave is merely a continuation of America’s long tradition of displacement, territorial lawfare, and the hauntology of Colonialist oppression over native ecologies that linger over Saltia like the air they breathed — which, apparently, may have been as literally as it is metaphorically toxic.
🄱⃣ 🄴⃣ 🅃⃣ 🅁⃣ 🄰⃣ 🅈⃣ 🄰⃣ 🄻⃣
Their jowls drooped to their what we would call knees. They shuffled along the empty street, glaring at the empty windows. They craved the missing electric lights.
“🆈🅾🆄’🆁🅴 🆃🅷🅴 🅾🅽🅴 🆃🅷🅰🆃 🅸🆂 🆃🅷🅴 🅲🅰🆄🆂🆃🅸🅲 🅾🅽🅴.”
Ⓗⓔ ⓑⓔⓐⓣ ⓗⓘⓢ ⓕⓘⓢⓣ ⓐⓖⓐⓘⓝⓢⓣ ⓗⓘⓢ ⓑⓛⓔⓔⓓⓘⓝⓖ ⓒⓡⓐⓝⓘⓤⓜ
Ⓗ̷̀͗͂̿͌ⓔ̶͈͕̙̦̠̯͍́̅̈́͋͑̑́͛ ̶̧̢̪̘͔̔̂͌͗͠ⓑ̵͕̞̗̥͊́͗̃̉̇͠ⓔ̴̛̗̙͒̋ⓐ̴͚̲̤̉͋͠ⓣ̵̨̛̘͕͕͓̭̣̰̝̩͊̓̃͊͋̈́̆̔͝ ̸̰̣̪̪̺̹̅̀ⓗ̵̧̨͓̣͈̹͑ⓘ̷̝̻̭̈́̋̍̈́̽͐ⓢ̷̨̛̻̞̺̟͓̜̬̤̽̊̈́ͅ ̵̡̧̞̥̗̦̹̱̳̔̈́̆̌͆͊̑̄ͅⓕ̶̧̧̫̫͇̫͓̗̖̓̊̂̈́̽̀͊͘͠ⓘ̵̛̗͓̜̼̩͔͂͂́̆ⓢ̶̭͖͈̘̥̈́ⓣ̸̛͈̪̺̣̼͍͎̀̐̔͑̈́̚͠ ̶̨̡̝͉̟͚̙̔̽̀̾̏̈͠͝ⓐ̷̡̥͎͙̜̺̱̺̉̽̿ⓖ̴͎͖͉͇͓̫͒̈́͑̒ⓐ̷̛̠̱̼̮̠̙͙̳͍̓̏ⓘ̴̧͈̠̉̇͝ⓝ̸̛͔̘̗̻̬̿̈́̒̏̀̄ͅⓢ̷̧͙̰͓͇͚̪͕̯̺̈́̏̀̆ⓣ̷̨̛̮̳̯̥̺̲̜̐͐̓͜ ̷͖͆̊͌̂̓̔̈̚͝ⓗ̴̯͗̈́̂̈́ⓘ̴̬͕̥̣̽̓̏̊͐̄̓͂͝͝ⓢ̴̼̳̼͓͇͔̂͛̎̑͒͛̒͐ͅ ̴̠͚̬̠̜̼̩̙͊̕ⓑ̶̨̡̛̣̟͍̗̼̔͂̐͂̚ͅⓛ̵̟̦̫̗̇͜ⓔ̷̨̛̣͕̤̖͇̞̣͉̜̈́̌̿̊̿̇ⓔ̶̡̭͖͒̀̎̊͐̀́̆͒ⓓ̵̙̤̅̀̏͌͜ⓘ̶̬̱̖͗͆̏̒̑ⓝ̶̩̙͔̬̲̈́͐͝ⓖ̴̛̱͍̞͈͈̭̲̖̐̓̅̂̅͝ ̴̨̦͉̻̟͖̂͑͋͒̍ͅⓒ̵̳͕̥̳͎̞͒̄̒̐̓͛́̅̔̕ⓡ̶̼̮̳̗̜̈́̿̉ⓐ̸̡̢̨̛̍̏̔̉̓ⓝ̴̛̭̭̯̹̘͔͒͒̓̈́͆͋̚͝ⓘ̸͉̱̎͛̉ⓤ̵̨̦̹͎̈́̃͂̌̐̈̃̿̀͘ⓜ̸̝̳̯͆̎͗̚͜ ̶̣̌̎͂ ̷̨̞̊ ̵̮̱̰̣̞̹͖̳̺̲̀̈́̔͑̐̽͠ ̶̣̄̄̃.̵̨̩́͌⃝̸̳̻̺̻̝͐̃́̾̈́
𝕀’𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕘𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗. 𝕀’𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕙.
↵ Be careful!
↵ I’ll be interested to see what you find out!
↵↵
↵↵
↵↵ Hey, are you there?
↵↵↵↵ It’s been a minute since your last update, I’m really curious what you found.
↵↵↵↵ Do you have any video?
↵↵↵↵
↵↵↵↵
↵↵↵↵
↵↵↵↵
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↵↵↵↵↵↵ Well get back to me when you can, I’ve always been really interested in your perspective on this issue and would love to know what you discovered.
【๏】【̵】【̄】【̆】【͝】【̌】【̱】【̦】【̹】【̡】【͇】【̙】【ͅ】【̖】【̸】【̸】【͐】【̆】【͌】【̔】【̑】【̎】【̇】【̓】【́】【̰】【̻】【͍】【̮】【͕】【͉】【̩】【̨】【̨】【̌】【̸】【̃】【͘】【̈】【̓】【͓】【͎】【̤】【ͅ】【̗】【̈́】【̷】【̉】【̾】【̆】【̥】【̫】【̖】【̪】【̭】【̘】【͓】【̰】【̖】【̳】【̺】【̵】【̆】【̔】【̃】【͘】【̠】【̯】【̤】【̻】【̖】【̡】【͍】【͍】【̳】【̝】【̭】【̴】【̉】【͊】【͝】【̍】【͒】【͛】【́】【͠】【͑】【̤】【̗】【̧】【̥】【͖】【̩】【͕】【͇】【̝】【̗】【͈】【̴】【̆】【̈】【͋】【̾】【̿】【̅】【͈】【͔】【̜】【͔】【̶】【́】【̄】【̊】【͑】【͛】【̤】【͕】【̳】【̙】【̱】【͚】【̳】【̫】【̨】【͜】【̧】【̵】【̌】【̇】【́】【̅】【̍】【̃】【͌】【͕】【̞】【̦】【̤】【͍】【̵】【̕】【̓】【͌】【̽】【̓】【̈́】【̽】【͗】【̊】【͔】【͉】【̙】【̣】【̶】【̛】【̆】【̄】【͛】【̪】【͜】【̱】【͙】【̩】【͜】【̟】【̴】【͗】【̥】【̯】【̥】【͔】【̝】【̧】【̡】【͇】【͎】【̷】【̂】【̿】【̚】【̽】【̐】【̫】【๒】【̴】【̅】【̔】【́】【̃】【̈́】【̈́】【̢】【̢】【̤】【̤】【̣】【̘】【̰】【̷】【̶】【͌】【̽】【̈́】【̫】【̭】【̱】【̡】【̝】【̖】【͓】【͙】【͕】【̎】【̴】【́】【̚】【͋】【̊】【͗】【͘】【̃】【̌】【͂】【̉】【͚】【̖】【̹】【̙】【̙】【̨】【̯】【͇】【̌】【̷】【͐】【̋】【͗】【̏】【̚】【̊】【̒】【̹】【̯】【̘】【̃】【̵】【͒】【́】【͋】【̓】【̕】【̫】【̞】【̫】【̯】【̮】【̅】【̵】【̾】【̚】【̨】【͈】【̠】【̼】【̠】【̟】【̰】【̮】【̨】【̾】【̵】【̃】【̋】【͋】【̚】【̃】【͘】【̀】【̇】【̀】【̰】【̦】【͚】【͚】【̝】【̖】【̿】【̴】【͒】【̀】【̣】【͈】【͕】【̢】【̲】【̘】【̤】【̡】【̴】【̇】【̈́】【̔】【̈】【̕】【̌】【̆】【͝】【̭】【̡】【̢】【̫】【̢】【̠】【̘】【̴】【̏】【̮】【͎】【̡】【͕】【̥】【ͅ】【͈】【̺】【̮】【̗】【̜】【̷】【̐】【͊】【̀】【́】【͛】【̭】【̱】【͈】【̪】【̷】【͗】【̈́】【̿】【͐】【̊】【͈】【̧】【̶】【̓】【͎】【̥】【̮】【͔】【̰】【ͅ】【͍】【̮】【̤】【̷】【͆】【̞】【̠】【̶】【͑】【͗】【͘】【̋】【̎】【̐】【̀】【͉】【̼】【͉】【̨】【̦】【̻】【̖】【̶】【̊】【̔】【̏】【̛】【̑】【̈́】【̞】【͎】【̥】【̱】【̹】【͎】【̯】【ɭ】【̵】【́】【̊】【̎】【̗】【̰】【̴】【̷】【̀】【̚】【̛】【̇】【͋】【͋】【̌】【̍】【̝】【̻】【̬】【̭】【̜】【͎】【͒】【̴】【͋】【͑】【̐】【̎】【̺】【̖】【͉】【͐】【̷】【͠】【͂】【͙】【̨】【̥】【̮】【̠】【̤】【̤】【̨】【͕】【̗】【̤】【̶】【͐】【̲】【̣】【̶】【̒】【͗】【̈́】【̄】【͋】【̆】【͝】【͘】【̏】【͝】【͔】【͎】【̞】【̜】【͈】【͎】【̟】【̵】【̚】【͘】【̔】【̉】【̊】【̝】【͇】【เ】【̶】【̌】【̾】【͛】【̆】【͋】【̉】【̊】【̈́】【̠】【̺】【͚】【̻】【̟】【̘】【̳】【͎】【̠】【̹】【̶】【̶】【̚】【́】【̀】【̕】【̋】【̂】【̓】【͚】【͍】【͚】【̋】【̶】【̈́】【͛】【͒】【̀】【̤】【̥】【̠】【̹】【̗】【̢】【̗】【̒】【̴】【͠】【̇】【̀】【̟】【̹】【̯】【͕】【́】【̸】【̂】【̓】【͗】【̹】【̝】【̭】【̨】【̣】【̪】【͖】【̎】【̶】【̃】【̔】【̌】【̆】【͝】【̀】【͠】【̋】【͗】【̥】【͕】【̙】【̰】【̹】【͚】【̞】【̼】【̤】【̶】【͊】【̑】【͌】【͗】【̅】【̹】【̺】【̮】【̞】【̺】【̥】【̹】【̜】【̖】【̸】【͗】【͝】【͐】【̏】【͒】【́】【̓】【͗】【̙】【̗】【̙】【̵】【͊】【͋】【͂】【̅】【́】【͒】【̂】【͆】【̨】【̞】【̝】【̘】【ש】【̷】【̊】【͒】【̊】【̈́】【͊】【͠】【͑】【̔】【̽】【͂】【̺】【̘】【͎】【̻】【̦】【̯】【̮】【̪】【̤】【̷】【̷】【͗】【̚】【̆】【̏】【̇】【̌】【͌】【̓】【͋】【̜】【̈́】【̸】【͝】【̌】【͌】【̅】【͗】【̒】【̢】【͕】【͍】【̦】【̟】【̜】【̮】【̞】【̬】【͂】【̵】【̈́】【͆】【͝】【̿】【̽】【́】【͙】【̊】【̵】【͑】【͝】【ͅ】【͓】【̝】【̳】【͕】【̢】【̙】【̦】【̑】【̸】【̾】【̕】【̽】【̏】【͆】【̈】【͓】【̥】【͖】【̧】【͈】【͓】【̬】【ͅ】【͖】【̣】【͗】【̸】【̾】【̉】【̻】【̗】【͕】【̩】【̱】【͉】【̦】【̨】【͖】【̞】【̒】【̷】【̋】【͠】【̉】【̋】【̋】【͎】【̨】【̨】【̤】【̌】【̴】【͐】【̛】【́】【̊】【̩】【̜】【̠】【̫】【̪】【̠】【͌】【̶】【̀】【̊】【̆】【̌】【̔】【̳】【̩】【̺】【̗】【̝】【͜】【͈】【̼】【̸】【͆】【̉】【̃】【͂】【͒】【̛】【̩】【̦】【̷】【̌】【͝】【́】【̄】【͛】【̅】【͝】【̕】【̕】【̯】【̨】【̠】【̶】【͑】【̌】【͝】【͇】【เ】【̵】【̆】【̃】【̄】【̅】【͠】【͊】【̌】【̟】【͓】【͎】【̴】【̸】【͐】【̆】【̃】【̒】【̀】【͝】【̛】【̞】【̪】【̉】【̸】【̔】【͝】【̐】【̒】【͘】【̇】【̒】【̒】【̳】【̣】【̺】【̺】【ͅ】【͜】【͙】【̮】【̅】【̸】【͊】【̚】【̾】【͐】【̋】【̭】【̰】【̻】【̣】【͎】【͖】【̼】【̪】【̸】【̉】【̽】【̇】【̊】【̽】【́】【́】【̋】【̗】【͙】【͈】【̶】【̅】【̔】【́】【̿】【͠】【̈́】【͊】【͌】【̽】【̇】【͙】【͚】【๏】【̷】【̛】【̈́】【̍】【͠】【̐】【͂】【́】【̳】【̗】【͉】【͈】【̘】【̨】【̴】【̶】【̉】【͠】【̓】【̄】【̄】【́】【̉】【̓】【͝】【̚】【͎】【̠】【̢】【̣】【͎】【͚】【̬】【͉】【͓】【́】【̴】【͝】【̒】【̈́】【͗】【̍】【͌】【̽】【̛】【̾】【̇】【̲】【͜】【͈】【͊】【̴】【͛】【̬】【̽】【̸】【̔】【̾】【͛】【̀】【̄】【̆】【̺】【͚】【̡】【̩】【̗】【̧】【̓】【̵】【̓】【̆】【͆】【͝】【̎】【̧】【̖】【̰】【͉】【̠】【͈】【̰】【̖】【̣】【͐】【̵】【̏】【̒】【͝】【̑】【̀】【̀】【̘】【̢】【̍】【̴】【͂】【̂】【͆】【̮】【̙】【̳】【̑】【̵】【̑】【̆】【̕】【͊】【̎】【̉】【͚】【̹】【̰】【͎】【͔】【̦】【͖】【̹】【͍】【͗】【̵】【͛】【̅】【̇】【̐】【͋】【̓】【̂】【̊】【̐】【͆】【̗】【͍】【͚】【̵】【̊】【̿】【ͅ】【̪】【̣】【̭】【̟】【͙】【͔】【̴】【̍】【͒】【̎】【́】【́】【̒】【͋】【̭】【̟】【̞】【͕】【ภ】【̴】【̉】【͠】【̀】【͌】【̐】【̌】【͒】【̃】【̹】【̼】【̨】【̨】【̫】【̪】【̺】【̷】【̷】【͑】【́】【͐】【̄】【̟】【ͅ】【̫】【̨】【̓】【̸】【͝】【̽】【̉】【̘】【̪】【͈】【͓】【̗】【̲】【̖】【͕】【̚】【̸】【͌】【̎】【͗】【́】【̊】【͝】【̋】【̍】【͠】【̌】【͖】【̬】【̬】【̨】【͘】【̵】【̄】【͒】【̀】【̰】【̠】【͇】【̘】【͕】【̤】【͎】【̲】【̲】【͖】【̒】【̴】【͗】【͛】【̽】【̃】【̃】【́】【̘】【͔】【̰】【̻】【̻】【̟】【̛】【̷】【͑】【͊】【̂】【̏】【̕】【̄】【́】【̱】【͇】【̣】【̥】【͇】【̝】【̻】【̧】【͍】【͋】【̸】【̈】【͘】【̓】【́】【̑】【͜】【̜】【̬】【̯】【̜】【̮】【̈】【̵】【̇】【̛】【͊】【̋】【͋】【̚】【̏】【̨】【̲】【̱】【̻】【͇】【̸】【͆】【̐】【̾】【̩】【̝】【̢】【͇】【͎】【̸】【͊】【͐】【̂】【̎】【͋】【̋】【̠】【͚】【̜】【̮】【͚】【̜】【̷】【͑】【́】【̛】【͕】【͔】【͙】【̤】【̦】【̲】【̘】【͍】【̫】【͜】【̸】【̀】【̌】【̣】【͜】【̟】【͈】【̱】【̲】【̘】【͉】【͇】【͇】【̗】【̵】【̆】【͘】【́】【̋】【̕】【͔】【͔】【̖】【̜】【̝】【̳】【̫】【̰】【̠】【̻】【̳】【̵】【̃】【͗】【̿】【̂】【͛】【̌】【͑】【̆】【̃】【͗】【̮】【̫】【͖】【̲】【̤】【͚】【̜】【͔】【̴】【̛】【̾】【̛】【͂】【͂】【̌】【́】【̉】【̀】【͝】【̳】【̮】【͜】【̺】【͇】【̜】【̯】【̷】【̂】【͌】【͒】【͒】【̒】【̈́】【̒】【͛】【͓】【̡】【̯】【̘】【̟】【̮】【̸】【͋】【̫】
In case it hasn’t been clear, all of this is true.
—DB, 11/18/2024
This uncanny story is presented for the Soaring Twenties Social Club (STSC) Symposium. The STSC is a small, exclusive online speakeasy where a dauntless band of raconteurs, writers, artists, philosophers, flaneurs, musicians, idlers, and bohemians share ideas and companionship. Each month STSC members create something around a set theme. This cycle, the theme was “Fiction.”
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Tipjar by Venmo:
man what a powerful piece. nothing i say will do it justice. just wow