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Dark lord

alloy_ Her Master's voice.........

this ego unleashed...

Entries by tag: planatary

Ghost Wine
Dark lord
alloy_
same with some revision, in case anyone's paying attention this is Fanfic for Warren Ellis's "Planatary" comic. I've put visual cues (Warning these contain spoilers)underneath cuts to avoid them ruining the flow narrative

Ghost Wine.
by alloy
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"I'm callin' Mister Mojo Risin',
Callin' Mister Mojo Risin',
I'm callin Mister Mojo Risin'
Cause I think Elvis is dead!"


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There's a Pontiac Trans Am that begs for petrol on the N1 Highway. It's windows are always tinted so you can't see the driver who doesn't exist.

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A psych patient from University of Cape Town medical school who escapes daily to fly a helicopter over Cape Town Harbour. He's cheap, as long as you don't object to an occasional flashback to Vietnam.

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A radio super-Hero's island Headquarters lies abandoned off the coast, much like the hero himself in '85 when he refused to partake in the more exotic excesses of the government of the day. No one knew how old he was, and everyone assumed he was prematurely grey, but the truth is he was born in 1900 and the pigment in his hair rain out in in 1960, five years before the Nationalist government saw a use for him as a radio propaganda tool.

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Rumours that he runs a gymnasium in Sandton are untrue. Jet Jungle still fights the good fight

Only the strongest human electromagnetic fields linger long after death. The most complete become avatars, or elementals. The weakest instil reality with their most powerful emotions, love hate, hope, & despair. The rest, the average minority, become ghosts.

Ghosts of slaves harvest the ghosts of vines and ghost wine lies in the barrels fermenting with the current harvest. Brandy is made from the essence of the essence of the grape, when you boil away the present you’re left with ghost wine.

Unwittingly we call the ghost wine ‘spirits’; unwittingly we imbibe the essense of centuries past.

Here in this place, the oldest cradle of mankind, I’m paid to uncover the secret history of the world, these are the things I report back to the Planetary Foundation.

Like the dead man who practices Tai Chi on Clifton beach. I don't think Mister Mojo Risin' ever made that call back to the states.

I guess I ended making it for him.


....Work in Progress..more to come
(to be continued)
Tags:

Secret History
Flirt
alloy_
"I'm callin' Mister Mojo Risin',
Callin' Mister Mojo Risin',
I'm callin Mister Mojo Risin'
Cause I think Elvis is dead!"



There's a Pontiac Trans Am that begs for petrol on the N1 Highway. It's windows are always tinted so you can't see the driver who doesn't exist.

A Psych patient from UCT who escapes daily to fly a helicopter over Cape Town Harbour. He's cheap, as long as you don't object to an occasional flashback to Vietnam.

A radio super-Hero's island Headquarters lies abandoned off the coast, much like the hero himself in '85 when he refused to partake in the more exotic excesses of the government of the day. No one knew how old he was, and everyone assumed he was prematurely grey, but the truth is he was born in 1900 and the pigment in his hair rain out in in 1960, five years before the Nationalist government saw a use for him as a radio propaganda tool.

Rumours that he runs a gymnasium in Sandton are untrue. Jet Jungle still fights the good fight

These are the things I'm paid to uncover, these are the things I report back to the Planetary Foundation on, the secret history of my part of the world.

Like the dead man who practices Tai Chi on Clifton beach. I don't think Mister Mojo Risin' ever made that call back to the states.

I guess I ended making it for him.

(to be continued)
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