Talented Failure: The Works of A.T. Prenger

  My day started out like it always did, which is to say poorly. I spent most a’ the morning kicking my freshly dead horse. More outta’ frustration than anything the poor beast did. Was my fault anyway since I was the one who got run outta’ town and I’m the one who rode the horse ta’ death. Sometimes I forget that, on account a’ selling my soul, I tend not ta’ feel the affects a’ dehydration or fatigue like most living things. I tired myself out a bit kickin’ the horse. I was breathing hard and that’s when it hit me. It was faint, but unmistakable; the stench of decay and rot. I looked at the horse as if it were the culprit, but it was too early for the horse ta’ put out a stink like this. The sun was just high enough in the sky that it blinded me. After squinting for a while I decided I could, in fact, see a town in the distance. It was in the right direction. The right direction being the opposite direction a' the town I’d been run out of. I took what gear I could carry fro...