Fenrir Cerebellion

A short one this week. Town. This one makes me cry. Sometimes home is not a viable option.
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Sometimes The Mountain Buries You is a queer novella about the things that threaten your attempt at a much-needed quiet life. Check out the about page here.

Town is varying levels of quiet depending on your proclivities. The small contingent of twenty-somethings with dirtbikes would not consider their lives quiet. The trail medic who, for a working trail medic, spends a considerable amount of time deep in the bush might not consider her life quiet. The ranches up the backside of the hill probably don't consider their lives quiet some good portion of time.

But walking through town on any given day, you might see only just a handful of people about, and half of those sitting on porches with books and bottles of tequila or tossing a ball for a dog in the baseball diamond whose grasses grow long all spring until the one weekend in summer with a baseball tournament for the neighbouring towns. Town has a team, you never see them practice.

A direct follow up to Sheppard is holding his guts in when you meet him. This one gets a little spicy near the end (under an 18+ cut, please keep reading for the ending). Didn't mean for this to line up with Valentine's Day (I'm more of a Captain Cook's Death person) but hey, it's thematically appropriate.
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Sometimes The Mountain Buries You is a queer novella about the things that threaten your attempt at a much-needed quiet life. Check out the about page here.

You don’t actually drink—something to do with houses on fire—but if you did you might be wary of the offerings any ways. Despite the promise he's "spruced up the place", you decline to enter his cabin for what would have been the second time in your life.

Sheppard emerges with a thermos of sorts that's kiln fired. He leads you up the side of the rock face and along the ridge until you can just see mostly over but still a little through the densest trees for a full view of the land. Mountain rock and forest, hills and ridges, a deep winding cut bottomed by a river accompanied by the winding paved road neither of which much visible from here, distant indications of town, the nearest fishing lake.

Later, in the little notebook [...]

Welcome to the first chapter of Sometimes The Mountain Buries You (formerly Sheppard & You), a queer novella about the things that threaten your attempt at a much-needed quiet life. Check out the about post for general content warnings, summary, and more info.

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Here's the bit of writing I got started during Monday's migraine. I got the first four paragraphs down with speech-to-text while in a parking lot far from home.

Sheppard is holding his guts in when you meet him. It's simultaneously the most impressive thing you've seen and the least. When you're done assisting the veterinarian in putting most of him back together, he asks you out for a drink. Without anesthetics, he genuinely soberly asks you out for a drink. You tell him it will be a while before he can drink, given the several layers of flesh stitched together that needs to heal. He smiles.

In two years someone will ask you a question that you don't expect to have an answer for, you realize that you know Sheppard.