P R E V I O U S L Y I N
S P I D E R F I N G E R S
Andy sends a small prayer to Eris of Confusion – he prays for the crazed and blinded beast tracking him to snuffle itself toward the smeared flesh on the open road. Surely this subterfuge will buy him badly needed getaway time as he crawls away in a maddening pain, a smarting that has been given no valve for relief. The agony that Andy lives through has no orifice to blast out of, a basic necessity denied by his surreal biology. No, this Discordian must retain the hellish discomfort for himself. No potent sonic discharge, no saddening lonesome cry vents its existence into the gathering mechanical rumble of London’s Monday morning.
'What I can't figure out is why he left you with so much power? You can disappear and reappear wherever you like! What was he thinking?' said Saul tugging on his ponytail, 'think he was trying to start another load of Discordians?'
'No...it's something else...' said Steph trying to second guess her dead god, 'or maybe he knew he couldn't live the way he was forever, that he'd need someone to take over being the god-hex?'
Steph shrugged before noting something black and shiny on the beige coast, ‘What’s that?’ she said as her curiosity channeled a new power to her legs. She ran toward the chiming surf.
Steph approached the item, inspected it and then finally picked it up – a folded black card with bold text, instructions to those admitted to a play. Saul advanced to peer its wording over her shoulder.
In a musky and shadow strafed basement Andy lies on his back, the battered and sentient palm side stretched out on the dusty concrete foundation. Is he finished? Has he come here to die?
Whilst others will wait upon his curious self to advance their understanding of the situation, Alice concerns herself with what is obvious, the remedy to bizarre scenario’s ever clear to her blue eyes. In seconds she has produced a crayon out of her dirty denims. She places it in the twisted limb and the twisted limb grips it tightly. Handy Andy writes upon the floor so that Alice may confirm her supposition, Spiderfingers’ death.
Her hair is dirty, unkempt and had it been placed under the scrutiny of daylight would reveal its stark blonde hue. Alice Is short, nearly dwarf height and her impish face helps cement the notion for first appearances. This woman however only looks like a girl.
His nuanced and unique power is that he can determine the location of anyone who believes in Spiderfingers. Handy Andy is a living spiritual compass. There is nowhere in the world that Steph or any other Discordian can disappear to without Handy Andy’s knowledge.
He writes this all down in barely legible short hand. Were Alice a normal human being then scribbling would mean nothing.
Handy continues with the writing. Because he needs to, he still hears the wise words of a fallen comrade.
Alice grabs her rucksack and collects Handy off of the floor.
‘After we get Steph and Saul we’ll catch up with Nightingale…she’ll fix you.’
‘I had some monsters planned for Wigloo’s adventure,’ she said, her eyes gazing out at the crystalline shine of the sea, ‘I was gonna write them into Wigloo’s adventures over on the Big Unknown, but unlike my so-called-life in London, Limbodia is like totally monster free.’
‘At least for a little bit you get me? I could do with a tan.’