Pagan drugged infused ceremony

After the fall of the Government and the break down of society You get things like the Pagan drugged infused ceremony. Strange bitter tasting sacraments cooked up in labs that send up smoke under bridges.

Screams hoots, moans from people in freaky masks and little else. Orgies around the bonfires, where the captured straight laced townsfolk are burning.

Human sacrifices pushed into sink holes. Ritual scarecrows crucified to telephone poles. Homes invaded ransacked. Rape pillage burn under the full moon. Mad dances in fields. The cacophony of crudely made instruments. Pounding of metal rods against old shed roofs and junked cars. Home made flutes and hand percussion instruments using metal and glass jars, cigar boxes, and anything laying around that clacks or thuds. The drones of endless glass beer and liquor bottles blow into with puckered drunken lips. The clang of metal trash cans being dented up by night's end.

So many candles in old storm shelters. Wall paintings fantastic and macabre. Some one found a Elf mummy and they put it on the large crudely cut table where people once played cards and played guitars waiting a bad storm out with flickering lantern light. Magic symbols surround it in thick pressed chalk. A pair of black panties curled into the far corner.

Often the biggest farms are the most pagan. Extended insane families living too close to the river and the mad spirits that remain there. Strange restraining devices made from farm equipment. With a lever to pull a sharp blade across victim's throat with enough power to sever his head. Secret slaughter houses that ritually prepare human meat. Houses hidden in the woods that only look abandoned.

Whole small towns have been emptied of they're Human contents and left with flapping doors and open windows to roads only used by coyotes and deer. Stripped cars beside the road, blood stains on the seats. Many of them burned. Fields un kept, filled with thin sapling trees.

Sink holes open up suddenly swallowing a child into the deeps below. Then a horrible low growl and roar is heard from below when the Sinkhole God is hungry for another child. It don't take the towns folk long to look elsewhere for sacrifice's. Travelers passing threw with kids are the best. The small town sheriff is in on it, this town is a death trap. Kids kept fattened up on sweets for the unseen Monster below. The adults either killed right away in front of the kids, or enslaved to serve the town.

People's teeth found in the soil all over this area.

Kids killing the neighbor's pet to cut it open. Pulled out the entrails. Toss them into the air to hit the pavement with a wet smack! Read their fortunes on the pattern the guts make. Leave the animal where it lay on act on the prophecy. These kids are allowed out after dark. Its the local adults that stay inside to avoid them.

A child walking across his fathers corn field early in the season. Finding human teeth and bones among the soil. He woke up night after night from nightmares of falling straight up swallowed into the night going faster and faster until the pressure will burst him like a watermelon.

Humans made into candles, burning shallow pale light in the ancient tunnels under the fields.

The Rex Havoc show

Long haired rock and roll legend Rex Havoc has his on show on Faux News. Rex is a out spoken and controversial conservative Tonight he is sporting his cinnamon Teddy bear pelt of victims he has killed himself. Science has proven that these endangered animals are in fact a intelligent life form nearly as intelligent has Human beings. But all the red states still legally allow the killing of these teddy bears any season. Tonight's first guest is Buck Dynasty. The tough talking grandpa of the cast of "Dude Dynasty". A reality TV show about a family of long bearded deep south red necks just keeping it real. All the family members are worth over a million each and the beards are props. Turns out they all grew up in New York City! They and all OFTL loyalists deny it and call this story a liberal propaganda lie. Buck Dynasty got in some trouble for opening stating that he "Hates faggots and he recommends mass killing to clean up this queer under belly that is rotting America". This episode shows a clip of Buck and Rex hunting for a live Poldaki Male that Buck bought as a present for Rex. The mutated Human has been set free on the actual set of Dude Dynasty and the two are drinking beers and hunting the intelligent being in full camo and high tech guns. "And the Liberals call these foot headed pieces of shit Human!", Rex laughs. "Last I check Human's don't have inky black skin and toes on their poop like heads", Laughs Buck Dynasty. Commercial break for Tough Ellon Trucks. This years model is so tall you use a escalator to get to your seat. It blocks the view of all other trucks no matter how tall. Followed by a local commercial for the re election of officer Roy Porkus. "He gets things done". Now its Kobe Beef doing his tribute to Kyle Deerbone entitled They don't make em like that anymore. A heart felt tribute to a Country music and political martyr who died for what he believed in and how the killer is still at large and thinking that his side won. That Deerbone's message is done. But no, think again son. A rousing guitar instrumental segment then he blasts into a patriotic medley of Deerbone hits. The audience is going crazy!

Now for the Rex's soapbox" segment. Havoc with his band Kill Party. He plays some kick ass 1980's style guitar flash. The band pumping out hard riffs behind him. The they all stop on cue and he shouts out a short wise political statement starts back up again. Another pause for his ruff redneck wisdom and the blow out continues. This is the show's most popular part and it gives masses of viewers something to be have unified anger over and it provides them with stern talking points. Kobe Beef and Rex are sitting and talking about their gun collections and critters they shot. Beef strokes Havoc's teddy bear hide and says "I sure would like to bag one of these for my wife while supplies last". The laugh and slap hands.

Expedition to South Field

The third in my series of journeys. This time I have better gear, a hand gun and a pretty assistant Named Disby Alarkens. She is studying to be an archaeologist. This expedition is funded by Going Stoned Magazine. Disby works for the magazine and she has a popular monthly archaeology article. This fairly well funded thing we are on shall be fodder for 3 or 4 months worth of pictures and text. Disby is really sexy by the way. Her looks landed her a respectable job. She appears on all sorts of TV shows. Her perky breasts jiggle when she hikes. But enough about Disby for now , on with the expedition. The truck lets us off in front of the great Southfield gate. A arch of extremely big trees carved whole. They must have come from many hundred of miles away or from a tree that no longer exists here. So huge and tall it boggles the mind. Mammoth tusks cluster and inter lock high above our heads. This arch was built sometime unknown in prehistory. By who no one knows. I take videos and pictures of it. Its a big tourist attraction now. But its Disby who is getting all the attention. Jiggling innocently while signing autographs posing for pics under the arch. I buy a cup of sweetened mulberry juice and blend into the crowd as a unknown. Just another set of eyes checking Disby out. I take an excellent picture of her signing her autograph for a little Mollkin kid. She uses it for her email fan letters page on her web site. That done we are taking our four wheel ATV's packed with gear down the ancient road. This is a dirt road very wide and flat that predates the Elves. Probably one hundred forty thousand years old. Arloban has another road from a lost culture that is uses as its main trade road. The plants never grow on this road and no one knows why. This is a trade route where grains, produce, animals skins and other wares are transported. The main theory on who made this road is us. We made it one hundred forty thousand years ago when we advanced from cave Men to modern or future society. Then some event or series of them destroyed modern civilization and we went back to primitive prehistoric ways. Slowly building back over eons to where we are here. With some impending doom ahead to start to cycle over again. All along the ancient road stands or buildings are set up to sell things to passers by. Gas stations, places to eat. Trinket shops. Old brick a brack stores. I touch Disby's shoulder to direct her to enter the old fun down store three before the side street. Her shoulder feels so good I almost gasp. Inside is a sad old shop. Warped wooden floor. Few items here are newer then 1986. Basically its run by this frail old Man who has run it by himself every since his wife died seventeen years ago. He has no family no where to go. He sleeps behind the counter on a worn out old cot. Disby has a sad look on her face and she is looking for something she can buy just to help him out. So am I. Looks like people have bought about everything remotely interesting many years ago and either nothing was replaced of shabbier fair replace sad broken dusty but better thens. There are three card tables set out with a sign reading Musical and electronics. Odd pieces of electronics devices, just the neck of a old electric guitar. Nothing but rubbish. Maybe someone who collects vintage equipment may find a treasure among the scant few items here. Disby is checking out the moldy smelling clothes. Looks like shes going to buy a few bucks worth and probably throw it in the back of her backest closet to forget about. I go to the huge worn out book case. Its full of books mostly hard cover without the dust jackets. Dull faded plain covers, often water stained. A few comic books. I check out the horror, sci fi section. Nothing too interesting here but I purchase a small stack of medium grade 1960's Sci Fi. The stuff you would see in supermarkets back when the common people still read. The place does has a certain tingle of distant magic about it. Like I could come in a couple years later and the same old Man would be alive and running it and maybe I would find something rare and wonderful in that tired book section. It's a good thing we have Going Stoned funding this. We have a jeep with a trailer hauling gear and two four wheelers. Next stop is the ruins of a modern suburb. Meaning that these houses are the ruins of buildings constructed 7-10 thousand years ago, in pre-historic times. But they are made with the technology and style of the American 1970's. There are many such ruins in the South Field territory. The most intact street has been named Engel street but the real name is lost to time. Sections of two lane black top remain, all the road marking and paint long faded away. Modern or nearly modern houses still standing. Many sunk a foot or three into the ground all windowless. But the sheer age of these houses that where set up for electricity and lan line telephones is amazing. At least ten thousand years ago people lived here and something happened to them that didn't happen in our 1970's. The theory is some vague apocalypse drove them back into the stone age. There is a small museum built about twelve years ago where items recovered here are displayed Some intact or glued back together plates and glasses. A red red rusted disco ball. Some warped vinyl albums, the covers long returned to nature. A pewter owl, feet broken off and missing. A shotgun, the metal rusted away but the wood hard and brittle remains.

There are interesting theories about these houses of the recent past/deep past. And I have seen similar buildings in the wild lands woods. The main theory is that we as a culture live repeating a cycle of building up from the stone age to modern times and being destroyed either the same say every time or threw some varied reason. If this is correct according to what is known we don't have too long before being brought down by some vague apocalypse. The other theory is that these houses are from a alternative world that co-exists with our own. That these ruins slipped threw the veil between universes. Now on down the main road. Every dozen miles or so we see another ancient ruin of a modern building. Sagging, leaning, sinking into the fields. A good lot of South Field is used to feed cattle or grow mass crops. Nearly two miles of strawberry fields on either side of the road. But different hues from four variations of strawberry. Each a slightly different flavor. We stop for lunch and buy a pound basket of each type. We drink some of our bottled water and enjoy these fresh and very good strawberries. Good times. The road goes on. Many fields. Corn, watermelons. We are past the areas where big herds of cows free range graze. Once hundreds of burials mounds could be found here. Few remain, most have be flattened to plant on. Farmers report that once or twice a year they will find a Elf tooth in the fields. Some make necklaces of the teeth or fashion them into dice. They are commonly sold at great barns where farmers set up shop to sell they're wears including folk art and found artifacts. I buy a empty red bottle of Elvin wine. Its a small bottle long as my thumb. The wine Elves made was condensed and meant to be mixed with fruits. Its a nice item to add to my artifacts collection. These great barns without open walls. We buy lots of produce here. Some pies. Disby buys several outfits. All of them sexy/cute. This may be looking like a typical tourist site seeing shopping reality TV show and that's because it is. We are being payed to make this show for Going Stoned Magazine. We get a nice budget to shop with and lose the funds we don't use. So why not? A sexy scene follows when Disby decides to try on a couple shirts she bought while the jeep bumps on. I'm in driving with her in front seat and camera man in back. She strips off her brown explorer shirt and she is wearing a black laced bra spilling out some lovely cleavage. A nice show I slowed down so I wouldn't go off the dusty dirt road. Now she is wearing a cow leather patch work top. Very soft with colorful braided tassels coming off the arms. Deep dark olives reds and golds in stitched squares that showed little bits of skin with fine strong spider web silk ties. I hope we get to do a whole series with her.

Next stop is the great burial mound of the allegedly still living Cement Head. Two hundred years ago he ruled South Field with an Iron thumb. Legend has it when the people finally rose up and defeated him they made a cement block to cover his entire head with no holes to breathe or see from. Then they chained him to his thrown that after the war for freedom was reduced to a twisted lump of metal slag. He was not dead and he could see and hear just fine. His rage was never ending. He bet the iron throne with the shackles. No one for many miles could get much rest with the clamor. The crops failed. The folks of three affected local towns decided to cover Cement head up with layers of whatever material they could find or spare to shut up that clanging pounding sound. He should be dead, weeks after having his head encased in Cement. No air water or food. Yet he pounds with boundless energy. It was feared he would pound his way free. So the people thought about it and decided to start piling refuse and such onto Cement Head and his thrown. Starting with endless ropes they twisted around him tight so restrain his trashing. Cow dung, unneeded extra cement, more and more items packed and packed around the throne. Now there is a massive mound there. Almost three hundred years of people adding materials to it. Concrete asphalt. Trash. Its become a cultural thing now. No sounds come from the mound. No proof that Cement Head really is encased under a hill of coverings. Its impressive to see for sure. A huge mound Parts of dismantled houses roofs sunk into hardened asphalt. A old doll sticks out from a bunch of shredded tires. Well that's it. For we have the proper amount of footage and budget spent according to the producers. Still a lot more sites to see but that's a wrap.

Why are we here?

Brack Selden walked down the huge echo filled concrete hall. Tables where set up along the walls for a convention of some sort. He didn't get a good look at the items splayed out on the tables. We moved with the crowd. Lots of people filing threw, confused shocked looking faces. Here and there large cracks in the concrete halls you could fit a fist into zig zagged from to ceiling. Brack was unsure where to go but he found himself following others into a class room and sitting down at a table/chair combo. Facing a chalk board but no desk. In front of the chalk board a video monitor was set up but it was off and the silent crowd waited here. Something really big has happened. But Brack is unclear on what. His memory seems murky, cloudy, full of soft details just out of reach. Only a few soft words from the people packing the room in nearly every chair. No one seemed to know anyone else. They waited there for some authority figure to come tell them what happened. To tell them what to do. A long time seems to pass. The clock on the wall is frozen at 2:30. The hands have cob webs on them. Seems like its been hours. What happened? Nuclear strike? Chemical warfare? Natural disaster? Why doesn't Brack know? He is sure something really big has gone down. The halls echo with the stamp of endless feet. There must be over a thousand people in this government communal emergency shelter. The last person Brack expected to see walk in the room stepped threw the door way. Kim Lacy. They have a few sexual encounters over the year. Being drug and alcohol free she partied and unwinded with sex. A good thing for Brack it was. She smiled her mischievous grin at him. Eyes still sparkling after all these years. Brack smiled back as she took the seat next to him and waited. They didn't say anything. Words seemed heavy as iron in this tense room. Brack and Kim exchanged flirty glances to help pass the time. It was nice to have her here. They waited and waited. Surely many hours have passed. Still the hall sounded with shuffling feet and murmurs. Brack felt strange. He couldn't think right. He just didn't know why they where there. But more and more, he began to think that they where all dead. That they all had a long long wait ahead. It could take years, it could take forever. Disby buys a deer skin dress with antlered hoodie.

The Call of the Shelter Belt

Lines of trees planted in glyph s that can only be seen by the sky. Magical biological sigals to calm the angry spirits of the Prairie lands. To stop the demand for human sacrifice to make crops right. Places for children to hide while playing out ancient rituals they think are games. The greed of the farmers. The nasty trees drink all the water and block all the light of the fields they say and expensive tree killing machines are sent out to tear down bigger and bigger sections of shelter belt. The tree's roots held down the madness the evil of disturbed spirits.

The dream of Sound

I have the theme goal of a dreaming sound. A unfolding evolving soundscape. It should evoke a relaxed but uneasy feeling. Most dreams are troubling or disturbing for the dreamscape is a land of magic and danger. Percussion rattling over endless centuries of mind. Ambient noises from synths playing back the back brain to the front a circuit of eons. Cries of synths like prehistoric monsters. Reverbed spoken word bits falling in here and there along with recordings of nature processed and often pitch shifted or run backwards. Synthetic water and wind. wind chimes. Found percussion of the tribal future.

⤓ Late night improv.