Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

After the Valois Empire destroyed the old Holy Teutonic Empire, reducing the former Emperor to a mere tributary/allied King, the Valoise reorganized the other lands into the Teuton Confederation, sometimes also called the First Teuton Republic especially after the creation and fall of the Second Teuton Republic 150 years later. Despite the name, the Confederation was only nominally republican, and virtually all of the reigning monarchs retained their thrones. Each was, as a condition of peace, required to send a delegate to a central legislature or Bundesrat as well as providing troops to fight alongside Valois in its further campaign.

In theory, the Bundesrat and its presiding officer, the Bundeskanzler, were a more democratic alternative to the old Imperial Electorate and Emperor, voting on all major decisions. In practice, though, the Bundeskanzler was derisively referred to as an ersatzkaiser or valoisenkaiser–the ‘substitute Emperor’ or ‘Valoise Emperor.’ All decisions were nakedly made for the benefit of Valois, there was little room for discussion or debate, and all the delegates were essentially Valoise puppets. This perhaps contributed to the swift collapse of the Confederation in the face of the resurgent Preuben, Ostrich, and Poccnor forces.

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A decentralized and incredible confusing jumble of principalities, kingdoms, duchies, grand duchies, and bishoprics, the Holy Teutonic Empire was famously denigrated as “neither holy, nor Teutonic, nor an empire” by the Duc d’Arouet in Valois. In this case, it was a literal truth: the Reformation had destroyed the stranglehold the Church had once had on the religious sphere, less than half of the subjects spoke Teutonic at home, and the decentralized and elective nature of the Imperial crown meant that few Emperors were able to act as anything but a first among equals.

This was, perhaps, one of the reasons why the Valois Revolution resulted in the Empire’s total downfall and dissolution. Other than a common currency, a common flag, and a common army, there was little to bind the various states together, so after the armies were shattered and the last Emperor captured, there was little to prevent a catastrophic breakup of the Teutonic lands. Only the core of the Emperor’s personal lands in the Electorate of Preuben remained loyal, leading Emperor Frederick Wilhelm VIII to declare himself King of Preuben in an attempt to maintain his royal power and prerogatives. This led to the old Teutonic Empire flag continuing to be used as the flag of Preuben for over a century afterwards.

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Name: Horiuchi Kei
Title: Divine Gardener
Weapon: The Tines of Destiny

Horiuchi Kei’s gardens, from their topiary to their koi ponds to their careful bonsai, are extensions of Horiuchi himself, and his legendary eye for detail. He has therefore a reputation as being extremely cold, irritable, and even misanthropic, but nevertheless he is extremely warm and nurturing to plants and small animals like koi fish. Patrons have reported receiving letters addressed to their gardens, and if they reply in a way that indicates a problem–or do not reply at all–Horiuchi Kei has been known to appear at their door demanding answers. His garden tool, the Tines of Destiny, is a twin of the Unmei no Fuguhiki forged by Sengo Muramasa and despite its simple nature is the equal of any weapon on the battlefield or off.

Name: Ike Takashi
Title: Divine Weaver
Weapon: Tengoku no harinezumi no hari

Patterns, textiles, silks, and satins; Ike Takashi is a master of every form of textile creation. Having worked his way up from a runner at a weaving concern to the undisputed head of the weavers’ guilds and a master of the art, Ike is by far the most institutionalized of the Seven Divine Crafters, generally traveling only as it relates to supervising and auditing weavers around the country rather than wandering as he sees fit. But this does not speak to any softness or weakness on his part; his signature weapons is a pair of steel needles connected by a chain called Tengoku no harinezumi no hari, the Spines of the Divine Hedgehog.

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Name: Shoda Yoshiko
Title: Divine Dancer
Weapon: Gunsen and Tessen

Shoda Yoshiko is of peasant stock, which explains why, despite her incredible talents, she has never been able to officially perform for the Emperor’s court or the Shogun. Nevertheless, despite originating with a farming family, Shoda was able to rise to favor by the most unlikely of means. Taken prisoner by bandits when her farmstead was raided, she nevertheless entertained the bandits enough with her natural movements that she was able to slip a concealed knife into the bandit leader and escape. Joining a group of touring musicians and entertainers, she used her increasing fame and pay to have a pair of war fans crafted, the Gunsen and Tessen, and trained extensively in their use. Despite being by far the youngest of the Seven Divine Crafters, Shoda is nevertheless unquestioned in the position since the death of Mukai Juro in Kyoto.

Name: Kataoka Natsuko
Title: Divine Singer
Weapon: None

Kataoka Natsuko’s background is almost entirely unknown, and even her name is likely an alias. All that can be said for sure is that she was either a friend or protege of Yonamine Mitsuko, the previous Divine Singer, and rumor has it that Kataoka killed her, possibly with nothing more than her voice. Scholars consider this impossible, naturally, though it has been suggested that Kataoka’s is able to hit a high enough note with her voice to pain and distract opponents. In combat, this is her modus operandi: using extremely high or low notes to bamboozle opponents and then to attack them with either her bare hands or a knotted silk scarf. Despite–or perhaps because of–this violent, mysterious, and dangerous reputation she remains in extremely high demand as a songstress.

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Prince Vladimirov was found dead the day after he closed the Imperial Marionette Theatre and transferred its building and assets to the ballet company that were run by his lover. The Okhrana opened up a special investigation to deal with the matter, since it seemed obvious that one of the marionette makers had been involved. Vladimirov had, after all, been found in his own dressing room, hung from the same horsehair ropes that were used in the elaborate puppetry masques of old.

But the staff were carefully accounted for in the investigation, with the orchestra playing at an engagement across the Neva and the major marionette players performing at a private engagement for Grand Duke Mikhail. Even vengeful old Sakharov, the theater’s owner, manager, and head puppetteer, had spent the previous day vainly attempting to secure a personal audience with the Czar or Czarina. The Okhrana determined their movements rather precisely, given their informants and the aristocratic circles in which the puppeteers and musicians tended to move.

In the end, those in the Prince’s inner circle privately suggested that he had used the marionette cord, which had been quite accessible to him after the theatre’s closure, for an unwise bout of autoerotic asphyxiation. Nevertheless, Sakharov was officially charged with the crime and exiled to Siberia–who, after all, would have wanted to tell the Czar that his second cousin had died in such a sinful way?

The Okhrana report tactfully omitted the tiny footprints found in the dust on the closet floor and on Vladimirov’s shirt.

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I think they’re alive, living. I’ve seen them bleed, I’ve seen them flee from danger. There might even be language in the words coming from their mouths, if you can call them mouths. And yet when they’ve been followed to their obscure lands of origin, through chinks and cracks from the natural world into places that are wrong, it is as if they’ve forgotten how to be a people, how to be a civilization.

Their buildings, dwellings, whatever you want to call them are magnificent. Edifices built to some age-old plan and a purpose that defies understanding. But even now they clearly do not know that purpose. The beings squat in the decaying ruins, using them as little more than base shelters where once clearly much more was meant to be.

There is infrastructure, technology even, in those places. I see them use it, but it is never repaired, never extended. When it crumbles, they simply go elsewhere. I may not be able to understand much about the intricacies of their world, but I think I understand this much.

They are living beings, and they have forgotten how to live.

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Name: Takenaka Chihiro
Title: Divine Chef
Weapon: Unmei no Fuguhiki

A legendary chef, Takenaka Chihiro wandered as a culinary ronin, wandering in search of his brother and cooking to feed his way as he did. Legendarily gentle and good-humored in temperament, he followed a personal code he called the “Menu of 108” that emphasized the value of friendship, laughter, and good meals shared. Perhaps his unhappy early life, in which his impoverished family had sold him into servitude under a local chef, had some bearing on this. Eventually he came to apprentice under the legendary court chef Fukuda Hitoshi in Kyoto. It was not until Fukuda’s death that he began his journey. His weapon, the Unmei no Fuguhiki, is an ordinary chef’s knife made with traditional katana crafting techniques as a personal gift of Sengo Muramasa.

Name: Masaki Miyako
Title: Divine Calligraphist
Weapon: Shi no Fude

A noted calligrapher and artist, Masaki Miyako was the illegitimate daughter of a daimyo and a washing-woman. One of a pair of fraternal twins, she was rejected by her father while her brother was accepted and legitimized. Knowing her father’s love of calligraphy, Masaki trained herself from a very young age in the art, cutting her own brushes and making her own ink sticks. Despite her incredible skill, her father preferred her near-illiterate brother, but the legendary calligraphy teacher Fujiwara Dai took her on as a pupil instead. Known for her cold, efficient, and ruthless work ethic, she has traveled ever since as an artist-for-hire, inheriting her master’s appellation as Divine Calligraphist upon his sudden death. She makes each of her Shi no Fude herself; calligraphy brushes with steel handles, they double as kunai and can be thrown or stabbed with lethal effect. Her handmade ink is also impregnated with a deadly poison; only she knows the secret of safely licking a brush coated in it.

Name: Sando Fumio
Title: Divine Architect
Weapon: Tenno Luopan

A geomancer and builder, Sando Fumio is renowned for the classic beauty of his structures and the exceptional quality of feng shui present in his creations. A very silent, very private man, he is known for his terseness and laconic remarks and very little else. Other than his place of origin, Osaka, little else is known about his origins. It is believed, based on his accent and affect, that he trained for some time in China, though as with all of his life, details are quite scarce. His prized possession, the Tenno Luopan or Emperor Compass, is a device of rare quality and sturdiness, equally at home in architecture and combat. On those occasions when he must do battle, Sando is known to affix the Tenno Luopan to a staff and use it as a spear of sorts.

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The massive bulk of the airship loomed over the fugitives, illuminating them. But it wasn’t a police ship with spotlights, but rather flashing an advertisement: IF YOU HAVE A BLIMP NEEDS LIFTING WHY NOT HYDROGEN? COME RIDE THE FIERY WINGS OF HUMANITY HYDROGEN: IT’S WHAT’S FOR LIFTING

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The official blogiversary date was a few days ago, but it seems to have slipped my mind–how ironic that the 11th year of this blog has had by far the most time for writing but also the least focus for it.

It’s been an eventful year; COVID and coups, Zoom and gloom, the overwhelming feeling of secular millenarianism. And yet, I have been privileged to be able to keep this blog another year, privileged to be in a secure enough position to devote time to it, privileged to have a ready source of power, shelter, and internet. If a blog can be said to be a barometer of fortunate chance ad privilege this is it.

When I started this writing, in 2010, my goal as clear. Use these daily entries to hone my edge and practice while preparing and submitting short stories and novels for traditional publication. A book in print, or a series of short stories in magazines, just like the author-heroes I revered–that was the ticket.

Now I wonder if, in 11 years and over 4000 daily drabbles, I might have inadvertently built the very thing I was looking for in a format I spurned. Amid all the typos and formatting errors is a literary journal, chronicling my thoughts and feelings through the medium of fiction. You can even trace some of my evolving beliefs, my attempts to better myself and banish regressive and fascist thoughts, if you dig hard enough.

Is it the perfect model of literary success I hoped for as a wet-behind-the-ears young man? No. Will it bring me fame, fortune, or even notoriety? Again, no. But it is an achievement, perhaps even a singular one. And as I sit here, grasping for meaning in an untethered age, perhaps that’s enough.

Enjoy the stories.

An apparently ordinary loblolly pine that had been either planted or allowed to grow unmolested since approximately 1980, the Prophecy Tree’s special gifts were only revealed following a 2019 summer pruning. The City of Davis and Pollocona County had disagreed about the ownership of the trees along Polk St., allowing the pines there to grow essentially unmanaged and unpruned. After the ice storms of early 2018, however, the jurisdiction issues had been sorted out, and the pruning in summer 2019 was initially unremarkable. A large branch was removed from the tree to improve access along a nearby sidewalk, and no one thought anything more about it.

However, in the record heat of Summer 2019, sap began to leak from the stump of the branch, and by September it was possible to make out a word: PLAGUE. This ominous word, dismissed by the City of Davis and the County of Pollocona as a hoax, quickly spread among the rumor mills in city Facebook groups. Many, especially in the First Baptist Church of Davis Women’s Auxiliary Facebook group, wondered if the dire pronouncement was a sign from a higher power.

In response, a local with a chainsaw cut off another of the largest branches on the tree. Thanks to the mild fall that year, the sap flowed from the fresh would just as easily as it had from the earlier pruning. The word MARCH was therefore revealed.

The City of Davis responded by erecting a fence to keep further branches from being cut, but the March 2020 arrival of COVID-19 and the subsequent lockdown convinced locals that the tree was a prophet of some sort, and the fence was soon scaled. This time, three more major branches were cut, all that could be reached without a ladder. They revealed, in sap, the words PROTEST, MASK, and BREATHE.

By the time the Black Lives Matter protests began in earnest later that summer, there was no doubt in the locals’ minds that the tree was a prophet and despite a new, taller, fence brought in by the Mississippi DNR, five more branches were cut with the aid of a ladder from July to September of 2020. They revealed the words DEFEAT, ELECTION, RIOT, and ICE. Even before these events had been seen through, still more branches were cut. However, it seemed that only the very largest boughs of the pine would furnish prophecies, and there were only three such remaining along with the crown.

Two of the remaining branches were cut thereafter, one in November and another in December. The first read DEATH, the second STRIFE. Alarmed, the City of Davis erected a further fence 25 feet away and put the area under police guard; discussions began about felling or relocating the tree to forestall what was still officially a prank. Events soon outpaced this plan, however.

In mid January 2021, another branch was cut. This failed to produce any sap despite a warming trend at the time, and as such in early February the crown was cut off the tree. This failed to produce any sap either; state forestry officials who observed the stump noted that the tree had already been essentially dead, likely since late 2020.

The stump was subsequently cut down, the mystery of its amber prophecies dying with it.

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