Machete
MACHETE. (See also, BLADED WEAPONS, SWORDS) The machete is widespread in many regions and is used as a tool like an axe, or as a weapon like a short sword. Due to its rigorous use in agriculture, the machete blade is typically tempered to be tough and durable; yet the blade, though resistant to breakages and easy to sharpen, does not long retain a sharp edge. As farm hands are often in possession of this tool in the course of their work, it has been the weapon of choice in many peasant uprisings.
The Papers of Hayden Collins
Filed under: Lynch
Story draft?
Undated
A small girl with dirty white-blond hair sat in the dirt, playing with a deck of cards. On the nearby porch a half dozen adults sat around the rocking chair where an older woman spoke, occasionally stealing glances at the girl. Though the child appeared not to listen, she could not avoid hearing.
Just walked out of the forest...doesn't speak...deck of cards...never seen such a dirty child
Her face remained stony, hands steady, uninterested in the adults and their gossip. The cards she held were intricately painted, if faded and seemingly mismatched. She shuffled and spun the cards, ignoring the dirt that flared up in tiny clouds as her hands moved. She flipped the first card: The Arrow Queen. She flipped the second: Arrows Six. The third? The Red King: her own card. Then: the four of swords, the five of swords, the six of swords, and the seventh, all in a row.
She nodded resolutely and swept the deck and into a pocket on her tattered dress. From the ground behind her, she pulled a grisly machete, and walked pointedly towards the porch. The adults hushed when they noticed her approach. In this world they would find no more reason to speak as they fell beneath the swift motion of her arm.
The Papers of Hayden Collins
Filed under, Lynch
Story draft?
Undated
Completely blind, caked in grease, pocked with shrapnel and grease spots, and naked, she lay splayed on the muddy forest floor as on a cross. From afar, she appeared to be dead. From afar, she appeared to be human.
Lynch was difficult to kill, a trait that would breed a reputation for a supernatural invincibility, perhaps even, people whispered, immortality. The body could bleed, oh how it could bleed, but she spurned death's requests to join him on his dark horse. "Cultivate fear in your enemies."It would be one of the many glamours that kept her body alive far longer than her right, her profession being what it was.
Her fingers moved slightly, then thrust down through a layer of damp moss and into the wet earth. The hand returned clutching a long sliver of glass, mercury still dripping down its side. She tested the edge and drew blood from the tip of her finger, then pressed harder, drawing more. She had been building an explosive device, and it had detonated prematurely, scalding her skin and taking her sight. But she carried far darker knowledge than that of explosives.
She pierced her finger again and began to draw symbols on the raw pink flesh of her abdomen, muttering to herself as she did so. Then she took the glass and cut out her right eye, an offering to one who might return her body's sight and more, letting it fall to the ground beside the grisly machete she carried at her side.
It was difficult to keep the self whole. It was much easier to submit to chaos, to slice and destroy the weak flesh. It strained at its own boundaries, moving towards its own disintegration, always. Those who thought her immortal were not wrong, not exactly, though the body she wore now would not survive the journey between worlds.
