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My Promise

This is the transcript of a letter I wrote to a writer friend of mine named M.L. Spencer. She is brilliant and writes engaging dark fantasy, I recommend her to all of you. She has agreed to let me show this bit of our conversation:

My computer died.

Did you know that the blues player Robert Johnson was poisoned and it was such a painful death he screamed for two and a half days before death took him? This was one of those deaths. It was as if my computer had gone to the crossroads and sold its soul to the devil so it could write The Great Hall and years later it was paying the price. Ever been in a car that had a quirk? You had to rub the dashboard in just the right spot, pump the gas five times and pray before the thing would start up. If my dad's Blazer was acting up, he would get out of the car and tickle the nut on the oil pan under the truck. When he got back in and turned the key, it would roar to life every time. This computer got to be like that.

But for the most part, it became like a haunted man. It had seen too much, had heard too many dark whispers and been the holder of too many secrets for it to keep going. So one day it took a shot of whiskey and laid down on my desk. It looked up at the tapestry of the Celtic tree tacked up to the ceiling above, let out a sigh and said, "Here and no further."

I had to move on without it. Had to leave it behind and pull up a new, more powerful replacement and keep going. Had to walk away from the hardest working machine I have ever seen and keep going. I wanted this letter to you to be the first piece of work it did. Wanted to focus it on the community and the work, wanted to let it hear us talk and see how our friendship works so it could see what is coming. Needed you to bear witness to my declaration to this beautiful piece of technology. I wanted you to hear me make it this promise. So bear witness to this for me, Mel.

To my new computer, I say welcome. I promise you death, fire, and darkness. I promise to force love upon you and heroics. I will show you lands that will become your home. Show you horrors that will shock you. You will grow to fear the way my mind works, will grow to love the way I talk to the world. You will be the instrument for my rise, the weapon I use to carve out a future for my family. You are my most useful tool. You are my priest, my confessor, and my executioner. When I am done with you I will leave you behind and never look back. No one will remember you but me. No one will care that you gave me every bit of life and power you had to help me on my way. We will make a mark on the world.

I will make demands. You must meet them. I will hate you. You must bear it. I will curse you. You must bear it. You will take my wrath and my love and you must do it without complaint. Death comes to us all. This is probably the first time you are hearing this, but everyone knows it. Death comes to us all. I will be the instrument of yours. You must bear it. I promise you nothing but work.

I lead you now into peril.

The Savage

The Savage is the gift I give to any who sign up for my newsletter. If you haven't already, download it and enjoy. It picks up where Dead Girl left off, and is meant to be read after Legends of the Exiles. 

The Goats of Breastion

Well, we held our annual Festival of Goats in late April! Everyone had a blast and we all can’t wait 'til next year. If you don’t already own my 65-verse drinking song, you should look into it. If you do, then you can go to my website and find the music written for it and the instructions on how to party like a Progetten!

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Jesse Teller


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Jesse Teller, 2443 S. Ventura Ave., Springfield, MO  65804 USA

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