Bellamy Scott

ALT White tattooed man with short brown hair shirtless in a wheelchair sipping from a mug.

ALT "Popping bones out of your skin and bleeding everywhere is horrifying to most people. You should try to avoid that if you want to be liked." The Voices. MORTIFY THE FLESH.

ALT MORTIFY THE FLESH By Bellamy Scott - - - - Page Break - - - EPIGRAPH The Earth was dead: to begin with. All who speak of climate change as if the planet yet lives and can be saved are but wishful dreamers. She died long before homo sapiens could conceive of themselves, let alone "climate" and "change." Like a salmon swum to the head of a river, the Mother-of-All vomited up her oceans, birthed her myriad children, and expired. Gods rot slowly. For millennia the one some called Tlaltecuhtli sustained her children from what remained of her mouldering flesh, and they fed her in return. An eel who died before its time, tangled in the teeth of a reef, offered a brief suspension of her decay. A young and reckless monkey who fell from a great height fed its handful of unlived years to the dirt. And thus, life by little life, the god some called Gaia became a Lich.

ALT Luca held a large mortar in one hand. His forearm quivering in effort to balance the heavy stone bowl and the trowel that perched inside of it while with his other hand he began to explain the situation to his husband in their shorthanded sign language. Ambrose could read it fluently,