Three seasons ago I decided to ride hard south – there’s more demand where they’ve yet to be.” “Yes,” he said, “I’ve seen the column with my own eyes. The man wielded a beard of immense size, and his cloak looked as if every meal he’d ever trapped and eaten had been incorporated into its makeup. Two months after the first time he’d laid with a woman, and two-months-one-day after he’d first been forced to kill in self-defense, he met a trader who’d come from the Northlands of Dund. Once in the world, it was tempting to drift into a new existence, but he inevitably found there was only a cold welcome for a wandering man of few means, and his experience came hard won. Most had some word to impart of the gods, there were even those amongst the eldest who claimed to have been in the presence of one in their youth, but all provided directions based on a tale overheard by an cousin’s acquaintance’s butcher’s nephew, each of forgotten name. They were not the only he’d spill in the next year, as each inn and camp reeked of rumour without substance. He would miss them, but was glad they could not discern his tears. Their arms had grown tired from waving his departure, but they once again raised their hands, knowing this was their final opportunity before the hill swallowed him from view. In the distance he could see his mother alongside his brother and new wife. Standing at the crest of Bigfall Hill, he ran his wrist across his nose, and blinked away the results of his final goodbyes. The land had run dry, and seemed to devour the rain as it fell – it came to him to make the fool’s journey of finding a god to pray to. He’d never thought it would come to his living upon the road, and he’d never dreamed higher than a plot of earth to scratch at, and a wife to help eat the returns. In truth, when the boy first set from the smattering of sod huts that had made up his young life, he was little excited for the path ahead. His eldest brother had long fancied the journey, but, by the time he’d reached a proper age for it, he’d already found himself wed by way of a squalling bairn. On his eighteenth birthday, Muggon went on the pilgrimage.
Tonight, we bring you a fantastic tale of travels, beliefs, and works.įlash Pulp 162 – The Last Pilgrimage, Part 1 of 1 Tonight’s episode is brought to you by Jessica May’s birthday.įlash Pulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age – three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings.
Tonight we present, The Last Pilgrimage, Part 1 of 1.
Welcome to Flash Pulp, episode one hundred and sixty-two.
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