A Welt of Thought on Blight Hill
rating: +11+x

If the frontier was the coursing heart the American spirit, Blight Hill was a gnarling clot that stymied her soul. She was forsaken, for a glorious time, to the wretched souls that dared stay there. They drank water from the well that gave no nourishment and ate blighted crops. It caused them no harm, of course, as they were as diseased inside as the land was. The embargo on Blight Hill lasted for generations. Everyone knew it was a broken place (except the residents, of course, but it can be difficult to use a barometer when the eyepiece is cracked) and left it rightfully alone.

I happened upon Blight Hill in my formative years. I was looking for a man, though I can't recall his name, who had commited atrocities against Man and God in the next town over. One look at that place caused my bones to tremble and my stomach to sink. It was a place filled with people yet devoid of life and spirit, though it did have a bar. I took a stool and asked the bartender if he had seen the man I was after.

The bartender shook his head and told me that this man had been in the town for some time. His glass of whisky was a golden brown with a wisp of orange that spilled inside it as if the light had captured inside of a jar. It was thick and syrupy, and burned like damned fire. I found a place to rest and spent the night in Blight Hill.

I dreamt of old, cracked hands in the darkness; of an unholy laying of hands to shrink and dishevel God's light in my heart. I could feel that light wane, powerless against this force of darkness. He was as a skeleton, though hidden behind the veil of the world in a blackened version of his own. The fabric of our world was stretched too thin, here, and I could see a face through the webbing. He smiled a maniac's smile.


My eyes opened. The nightmare may have been over, but it had surely not released me. It was a church, though despite my first instinct I was certain it was a church. With trepidation, I began to explore this un-place.

The walls peeled to the touch and revealed woodlice, each with a face of their own. I took a moment to wonder if they were content within these walls, or if they cowered inside them unwilling to discover the land around them. The woodlice then congregated into a small ball, and the ball was a mouth that spoke.

And then I left. Looking back, I now realise that it was a church, though it was very difficult to tell from the inside. I went back into the town and asked the bartender for a drink. He smiled and provided me with a shot of whisky, though it was bright red. Disgusted, I threw the liquid at the bartender, though he caught it quite gracefully and placed it back in front of me. Surely, I thought, this was not a safe place to be any longer and took my leave.

As I left, I decided to stop by the bar for a drink and ordered a whisky. The bartender looked rather surprised, though that didn't stop him from providing me with a shot. The glass was filled to the brim with a pitch-black liquid that bubbled and squeaked like hot tar. I took the glass and hurled it at the bartender who screamed as his skull caved inwards like paper folding in on itself. I dragged the corpse of the bartender then realised that I was thirsty.

I decided to go to the bar for a drink, though the bartender wasn't there. I was unsurprised since this town was full of lazy folks that likely had never done a hard day's work in their lives. I poured myself a glass of whisky (being sure to leave a dollar to the barkeep under the counter, of course) and was shocked to discover that it was an old man. Repulsed, I threw the old man at the bartender and took my leave.

The midday sun was shining down overhead. I saw the man whom I had come to find at Blight Hill, and he had a pistol in his hand. I raised my gun and saw that the man was, in fact, myself. He (though I suppose I should say I) both laughed and wept, and placed the gun to the roof of his mouth then fell over, dead. The bounty said that the man could be taken in dead or alive, so it was no matter to me.

The bartender gave me a hearty chuckle as I left Blight Hill.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License