Oriphiel

It's been while since last we met, hasn't it? But now i'm back, and the garage is open for business once again! See! The most odd and jarring videos from around the universe! Hear! The fantastic sounds of the wild undercurrents of human existence! Taste! the cosmic burgers and milkshakes of the galactic diners we visit as we cruise through the stars in our Interstellar Hot Rod!

The first order of business is an announcement. The Post Punk category is now Punk/Post-Punk, including both genres, since the line between them can be pointless and narrow at times. Similarly, Rockabilly now has Psychobilly attached to it. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I think I owe you all some more of that western story, to the tune of two weekly updates that I failed to upload! Here they are!

Western Part 4



Rachel’s life changed quite a bit from that point on. She now had to walk with a cane, and traveling any distance beyond her immediate surroundings was a painful task. She grew older, and the boy who her parents had groomed her to wed had long since moved on to a women of softer features, and better means. This didn’t discourage her parents, who sought continually for a man who would have her, though they oft sought in vain. However, the day came when they did indeed find a man who took an interest In her. He was a young widower, a kind man who was fairly well off in life, and made a point of meeting with Rachel whenever possible.

Though her suitor was more than her parents could have ever asked for, and she knew that only a fool would turn down such an offer, as her disability and lack of means virtually insured that there wouldn’t ever come another chance, Rachel held off. Though her injury had taken a good amount of freedom from her, in her dreams she was still a gunslinger, a legend. Rachel knew that before she died and faded away, she had to become the one thing she had always dreamed of becoming, to do what she was made to do. But she could never find the strength or the courage to follow her ambitions. Eventually, for her parent’s sake, she agreed to wed her suitor, and attempted to cast away the flights of fancy from her youth.

Now a young woman, after years of practice she was able to walk on her own, albeit with a limp. Still, she felt her freedom drift further away as the days passed by in the blur that most forgettable days in a lifetime are lost in. The wedding day gave way to night, and she burned under the hot darkness of a July midnight. Her new husband was, as he put it, “settling an account”, and had promised to be back within the hour. She lay alone in a bed that had entirely too thick of a blanket for a summer night such as this. She was lost in a feeling, the kind that exists between a thought and a dream, and she seemed to become one with all of her joys and fears. Suddenly, she noticed something above her; a small puff of smoke, tinged with the scent of tobacco. Looking to her side, she saw Lady Fate sitting in a chair by her bed. “Hey, little chalk.”

Rachel blinked, not sure what to say. It had been quite awhile since she had seen Lady Fate last. “You’re back?” she asked. Lady Fate nodded while dragging on her cigarillo, and after exhaling the smoke gave a reply. “Yes, I suppose I am. And that can only mean one thing, hm? Life is about to get exciting. Good things are just itchin’ to happen.” Rachel sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes, saying “Not really. You know, I should be mad at you for all you’ve done to me. Destroying my leg, ‘n all.” Lady Fate exhaled quickly and smiled, saying “Yes, well, lucky for me you’re not one to hold a grudge. You’ll listen to me, because you’re curious as to what I’m doing here, what I have to say.” Rachel smiled back, and asked “And what makes you say that?” Lady Fate let out a laugh, snubbing out her cigarillo, and replied “Because you’re bored! Even if I end up leading you into hell, it’ll be better than just sitting around and wasting away. You’ve got a home, money, a man who loves you… some would consider this heaven, the ultimate goal, but you,” she rested her chin on her upturned palm, and leaned closer to Rachel, “you’re in a cell, body and soul. You know, I can’t tell if you’re selfish or selfless, but I know for a fact you’re tired of all this. So let’s get down to business, hm?”

“Alright,” replied Rachel. Lady Fate smiled, and repeated “Alright.” She stood up, and walked over to a cabinet across the room. “It’s time for you to leave,” she said to Rachel, “time to become something grand.” Rachel laughed, and said “What, like a hero? Like when I was a child, and found that revolver? If I recall, me tryin’ to be a hero didn’t work out so well.” Lady Fate opened the cabinet and reached inside, saying “I never said you’d be a hero. I said you’d be grand, a legend.” She withdrew her hand from the cabinet, a revolver in her grip. Walking over to Rachel, she dropped it by her leg. “Here y’ go.” Rachel looked at Lady Fate, who simply smiled and nodded her head toward the gun. Rolling her eyes, Rachel picked it up and spun the wheel, saying “So?” Lady Fate shook her head, laughingly saying “What do you mean so? That right there is your future, and it’s in your hands. It’s my gift to you. Now, this life you’re living,” she shook her head, “It’s not a life at all. You’re just sittin’ around, miserable, waitin’ to die. Maybe if you go out to try and bag yourself a destiny, things might not turn out so well. But if you stay here, then you’ll never have any destiny at all. And you may disagree, but it’s my opinion that a bad destiny is better than no destiny at all.” Rachel stared ahead as if in thought, and spun the wheel again until it finally came to a stop. “You’re not real,” she said. “Maybe,” replied Lady Fate, “but does it matter? If my words are true, then who cares about the source?”

Rachel spun the wheel once more, and shrugged. “Okay,” she said, “You win again. What’s the plan?” Lady Fate gave her a wide smile, saying “Oh, good! Now we can finally close the exposition and get to the action! You know, I was starting to think this moment would never come.” Rachel narrowed her eyes and gave her a blank look. Over the course of the next half hour, the two partners in fate gathered up everything Rachel would need for her journey; food, water, a horse from the stables, sturdy clothes fit for riding in (as she didn’t have any, she simply borrowed a work shirt and pants from her husband), bullets, and a hat (as the only kind her husband had was a derby, she had to make do with it). That being accomplished, Rachel packed her supplies on her horse and got into the saddle, while Lady Fate stood nearby. “Goodbye little chalk,” said Lady Fate, lighting up another cigarillo. Rachel tipped her hat towards her, and spurred her horse onwards. Lady Fate laughed lightly, saying “That’s the spirit. Now go live your story.”


Western Part 5



Without any specific destination, Rachel simply picked a direction and rode, until the sun woke up and brought the heat of a mid-west summer with it. After riding for some time, she stopped at a spring so that she and her horse could rest, and took out a cast iron pan from her saddlebag to draw some water. After she had drank deep, she couldn’t help but smile; she was now at the beginning of her own tall-tale, completely lost yet completely content, and knowing fully well that one day this scene would be among the pages of a dime novel. She took out her revolver, looking down at it with excitement and pride, and attempted to flip it around her hand like the gunslingers back at the saloon used to. Of course, it flew out of her grasp, and she simply laughed as she picked it up to try again.

In time, she rode on, across the fields and through the valleys, until she arrived at the heart of her first chapter; atop a rocky hill, she bade her horse to stop, as her vision caught the plight of a stagecoach in the process of being robbed along the side of a road. This was the moment she had dreamed of, the scene laid out for the actress to heroically gun down the bandits in the name of justice, or honor, or fun (but at least in the name of something). And yet Rachel became cold despite the heat, as if her veins had filled with ice. Her gut became heavy and her head became light as she found herself stunned with fear.

She saw herself turning around, in her mind. Just riding away to wherever the sun shines the brightest. And yet she managed to stay, determined as she was to claim an adventure for herself. Dismounting, she walk lifelessly towards the chaos, limping painfully as she did so. The bandits didn’t notice her approach, as they were gratifying themselves with an unfortunate passenger of the ill-fated coach. She walked on until she was unbearably close, close enough to see the pain on the face of their victim. Sweating from the pain of walking on her injured leg, Rachel took a few more steps, and then stopped.

The bandits hollered and laughed, and Rachel’s hand hovered above her holster. She found her hands and knees physically shaking, something she thought was purely an expression until she truly felt it. She pulled out her revolver, this time strong enough to lift it with one hand, and pointed the barrel towards the largest of the bandits. She squeezed the trigger lightly, breathing in, the hammer already pulled back. The trigger came closer and on towards her, until the tension was broken by the firing of the revolver. It was a loud noise, quite a bang, and the sound of it cracked across the open expanses around her.

The shot tore through the first bandit, and his two accomplices turned around and scrambled for their guns. Luckily for Rachel, the bandits in their revelry had let their pants and belts slip down to their feet, leaving their large revolvers out of reach. Now on the auto-pilot of adrenaline, she felt a strange calm as she effortlessly moved the barrel towards the second bandit, and then the third. Both bandits joined their comrade in the afterlife, their bodies falling to the ground. Rachel stood like that, holding her gun as if ready to fire, even after her enemies had perished. Like a statue, she was wed to stillness, basking in something that appealed to her dreams, yet seemed unsatisfying as it was brought into the flawed and immaterial reality before her.

The survivor of the attack, who had been the target of the late bandit’s revelry, was relieved to be alive though she found herself unable to stop crying. She leaned back, sobbing lightly with closed eyes, the hot sunlight falling down upon her as a cool breeze blew past. She was just as still as Rachel, although mentally rather than physically. Eventually, the survivor opened her eyes and thanked Rachel, causing her stoic spell to break almost audibly. Rachel lowered her revolver and looked down at the survivor, not sure of what aught happen next. She remembered the dime novel heroes talked about in the saloon back home, and how they always parted company with words of audacity, and so she tried to live up to their example. And yet, not a single word came to mind. Flustered, she put her gun away and set about rummaging through the loot the bandits had gathered, collecting as much money as she could find. The survivor looked on in disbelief as Rachel left in the direction she had come, limping past cacti back to her horse. However, before she had gone far, Rachel stopped in her tracks. She turned to face the survivor, and threw her a cut of the money. “Buy a gun,” she said in a dry voice. The survivor looked down in confusion as Rachel turned to leave, yet she stopped once more and threw the survivor another cut, adding “And a shirt.” The survivor looked down; she had completely forgotten that her blouse had been ripped apart by the bandits. She covered herself with her arms, cleared her throat, and held her head a bit higher. “The nearest town is twenty miles away,” spoke the survivor. Rachel turned to face her again, and asked “Do you know which direction it’s in?” The survivor nodded, and said “Down this road apiece, to the east.” Rachel smiled and started for her horse again, saying “Then what are you waiting for?” as she left. The survivor looked on helplessly as Rachel rode away towards the horizon. Maybe she had been a bit harsh, but at least she had been clever, and for that the heroes of old would surely smile down on her.