Page 16 - TheRedSon_PrintInterior_430pp_5.5x8.5_9-22-2019_v1

It was not an entirely uncommon tableau, as Post-
Darkness images of the Funeral King were found across
much of the Northern states, as well as scattered around
parts of rural Great Britain. Even so, it was an impressive
piece.
The Funeral King, it turned out, was not the most
rewarding find within the cabin. Heaped in a corner was a
stack of newspaper clippings. The very first article I perused
concerned none other than me. “The Family Man killer turns
artist into living canvas.” I believe it was the first time I’d
been called by the name—the Family Man. I had once let
slip to the artist mentioned in the clipping a small particle
of my history. He was a kinetic bit of art—still breathing,
in awe of what he had become—and supplied my admirers
with insights I’d shared with him about myself. As he was
an artist, I chose to share a bit more than was my custom.
Thus, my new name was born. Clearly, I am more than the
mere sum of my family’s bones, but I do rather enjoy the
name.
The next article I selected concerned a church built in the
city of Suttercraft, three years ago, by the given date. One of
the carpenters who contributed to the effort was also named
in the piece—Hayden Trill. I generally don’t do things in
any kind of order, but it was nice to see that his was the very
first name on my list.

The Red Son | 19