Archive for May, 2010

#149. The Village

Posted in Uncategorized on May 27, 2010 by armaneaux

There is a small village buried beneath Nosehill Park that predates even the first nations, belonging instead to the mound builders who are so often mistaken for First Nations. There are whispers amongst the acolytes that the hills of the park itself were erected as a burial mound for the city after some unwritten cataclysm. Regardless, the mound builders and their secrets are always of great value.
To get into the village, open a nearby manhole and climb down. This is best done at night to avoid being seen. Once down the manhole, begin to walk towards the park. The sewer tunnels will eventually lead you to an aged wooden gate. Simply push it open and walk through. The remains of the village are made of a some crushed mounds and a handful of intact buildings: A long, low mound where the villagers communally slept, a tall, peaked mound where their shaman lived, a small mound that was given over to food preparation. Avoid the last one. The food has been mating and cannibalizing itself for generations, and has degenerated into something quite cruel.
Instead make for the shaman’s mound. Within, you will find a rich history of pictograms carved in the earth and coloured with chalk. The colours are remarkably well preserved, no doubt due to the mound’s seclusion. Read the pictograms at your pleasure and leave. There are no horrible secrets here, and no great burden for your soul.

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#145. The Postcards

Posted in Uncategorized on May 27, 2010 by armaneaux

[This one’s an email, folded up and glued to the page. The header’s cut off]
Hey Sandy,
I’m gonna head over to your place after class, but in case you’re not there, I need your help with something: post cards. Ever since the equinox I’ve been getting these picture postcards from another place. You know where.
I tried to send some scans but it all comes out garbled. The cards are a lot of old junk; kitschy pictures of German villages or Hugo Boss army men. The back’s written in English though. It’s this guy, a soldier I think, named Gregg. He’s writing home to this girl.
Pretty usual stuff, and only about forty years off, except everything’s a little bit wrong. All the brands are stuff I’ve never heard of, and you know all that racist bullshit that disappeared because the companies changed their names? He mentions gassing American partisans in a “coon chicken”, only the postcards are dated in the seventies after all that shit disappeared.
Matt thinks someone’s “trying to send a message” about something. I dunno what though. When he’s not talking about killing, Gregg gets pretty spicy. Sex and Death… that’s basically what They’re all about, isn’t it?
Maybe I’ll read some of them to you later. If we can’t figure out what’s up, we can at least have a good time…
– Jess P.

#142. The Typewriter

Posted in Uncategorized on May 27, 2010 by armaneaux

There is a disused office in the basement of the Administration building at the University of Calgary. The door to the office is painted shut and covered over with a broken bookcase that has been placed there for “storage”. However, if you move the bookcase and open the door, you’ll find that the office is actually surprisingly well preserved considering how long it has remained shut.
The inside of the office is like a time capsule, furnished with thirty year old chairs and bookcases in the style of the time. The walls have a vaguely yellow patina to them, but this is of no significance. If you look at the degrees hanging on the walls or the books on the shelves, you will discover that the office belonged to Earl Wiser, PhD in history. No sign of Doctor Wiser remains, nor is he mentioned in any records kept by the university. Judging by the books on his shelves, Doctor Wiser was an expert on the Second World War.
The only thing in the room that will appear to be touched by time is the 1930’s typewriter on the desk. You will notice that this typewriter is unique for two reasons: it has German character keys, and it is typing the same narrative over and over again without any human interference. The narrative tells the story of a German victory in the Second World War and what happened after. If you take a closer look at the books on the shelves, you’ll notice that the axis won in them too.

#140. The Abattoir

Posted in Uncategorized on May 27, 2010 by armaneaux

There is an abattoir in the city that is disguised as something else. From the outside, it looks like a print shop about a block from a mountain equipment co-op. But inside, when the stars are lined up correctly, the store gives way to a cement killing floor that is stained rust-red with blood. The interior of the building will be larger than is possible, rooms stretching on into eternity. Much larger than the city. A few rooms from the entrance, you will find a room full of meat hooks and full of… meat.
Never enter this room shortly after a friend or relative dies, or you may see their face on one of the sliced-open bodies that the room’s small, Slavic inhabitants busy themselves with slicing. This is where the city’s dead truly go. The familiar bodies in coffins are made of wax in another room still deeper in the abattoir. You should not venture further than this, however, or you will be mistaken for meat. Instead, try to find the once face in the room whose lips are still moving.
The man, and it is always a man, will ask you for news from the front. Tell him that the good guys lost. His face will break into a smile and he will allow himself to die. With his last breath, he will bless you and yours. For the remainder of your life, good fortune will follow you so long as you keep to a strict vegetarian diet.

#139. The Dry-Cleaners

Posted in Uncategorized on May 27, 2010 by armaneaux

There’s a one-hour dry-cleaners on 14th, next to a 24 hour film developer, that appears closed at all hours. The open sign is dimmed, the lights are out, there’s nobody inside and a sign that reads “ON VACATION” is posted on the door. However, during the daytime it is possible to gain entrance to the drycleaners in three ways: First, entering through the front door is possible unless the current day is a weekend or holiday. Second, on weekends and holidays the rear door is unlocked. Third, the building has a small skylight which has been broken since 2002. No rain, wind or snow seems to enter through the broken skylight, but you can.
Upon entering, ring the bell on the counter. An aged Asian woman and her mute husband will emerge from the back of the building, even if you passed through the back of the building while entering through the rear door and found no signs of life. The woman and her husband will stare at you in silence. If you leave, you will be dead within an hour. However, if you complain to the couple about the loss of an article of clothing, you will be spared. Your complaint must he highly specific, such as “A pair of black jeans from nom de guerre’s winter collection, size eight”
The couple will leave. Remain in the building for an hour, and they will return with whatever clothing you complained about. It will be bloodstained, and they will helpfully direct you to another cleaner who can remove any stain.