Descend down the ochre corridor Reminds us what had come before As autumn sees its shadow once again Haughty winter had in store A frigid never ending score Of chilling tunes that shook most hearty men Hibernate and vegetate as fall turns to winter Another year and it’s too late as fall turns to winter Days abridge and moonlight glints as fall turns to winter Blink and you will miss it all as fall turns to winter Endless winter began Missing every well laid plan Don’t think too much of it at all Passing time as best you can Missing every well laid plan Don’t think too much of it at all Hibernate and vegetate as fall turns to winter Another year and it’s too late as fall turns to winter Days abridge and moonlight glints as fall turns to winter Blink and you will miss it all as fall turns to winter

On a bleak and dreary morning, morning, the sun rises on the glen Spreading the word - good morning, morning, to everywhere that the rays extend And if you care, you’ll smile, smile, the sun will brighten your day And if you’re apathetic - don’t care, won’t care, the sun rises anyway It’ll set and night will fall and day will come again As the crowd stirs and gathers around, the gallows are set to eject Life from every sinner and outlaw, outlaw, left cold stiff and erect The hangman stands gleaming under the sun, doing his duty elect Killing’s known to be a tough living, but it’s one he’s willing to perfect For when it’s time to be judged he’ll be known as a master of his craft Enough about the sun and enough about the sky Enough about the things that let an ordinary man die Enough about the sinners and enough about the saints Enough about the is and isn’t’s, the are’s and all the ain’t’s On his gelding he rides to the sermon, ready to genuflect acute In the queue he waits with the bums and sinners, that he may soon execute Eager he waits to plead and explain, his garments turned to a sweat suit In the box his guilt flows like water, with plenty of sins to dispute But God knows his work is just, and soon he’ll be meeting him

Brightly painted by tender hands Carefully ornamented All that you’ve been waiting for The moment comes And you may find some peace of mind in leading them astray But I know it’s not for show, it happens when we’re away You might not realize tomorrow or today But there is no reason why you have got to stay Taking to flight to deliver Feelings that are soon to waiver And in an instant The moment’s gone And you may find some peace of mind in leading them astray But I know it’s not for show, it happens when we’re away You might not realize tomorrow or today But there is no reason why you have got to stay

There wasn’t much to do in the town of Hermiston - if you were there, you were stuck, and if you were dumb enough to visit you deserved to be stuck there. The livestock outnumbered the townspeople several dozen to one, and if there were anywhere you could see beast outsmart man, it was here. A place where a thought that lasted outside of the moment it was thought in was unheard of. A tourist’s trawl of the town would only really lead to a few notable spots, the most important being the old Ag Sale situated in what could closest be called downtown. There was little to do in Hermiston, perhaps by design, as the townspeople were only really good at three things - harvesting, praying, and celebrating. Brand, however, eschewed himself from the pleasure of all three of these activities. Living amongst the merchants and time share fools looking for a “rustic getaway” in lovely downtown Hermiston, he rarely ate and was rarely seen outside of his house, not even for Offday Prayer, and so the townspeople largely left him be. Despite his typically glum nature, Brand did have two things in life that brought him joy - theft and arson, like any upstanding citizen. At night, when the townspeople were all far into dreamland, he would often go and steal flint, twine, resin, oil, and other flammables from the local Ag Sale and find abandoned patches of land or similarly deserted buildings to set ablaze. Hermiston was a very, very, very rural town, and as you would expect there were many abandoned barns and isolated patches through the twists of the nearby hills to wreak havoc on while not drawing much attention to himself. One night during his usual route of theft, he heard a second pair of footsteps following distantly behind as he rummaged through the Flammables, and pivoted around with his hand grasping the handle of his hammer. In the light of his lantern he saw one of the local children, pupils as wide as could be and mouth agape. His first thought was to kill him, but it would be unfair - as for now, he only burnt down buildings while vacant and had no desire to kill. He knew though that on the other hand, if the child were to rat him out to the townspeople it would be over for him, at least as far as Hermiston was concerned. In his moment of indecision he paused, and the child took this window of opportunity to run as fast as physically possible out of sight and back into the darkness around a corner. Knowing tonight could potentially be his last as a free man, Brand swiftly wrapped up his errands and set out on foot to the outskirts of town, where one of the several churches that adorned the area sat. With the moon casting the only dim light around, Brand worked quickly to precisely place the Flammables and Explodables around the church. He had planned out exactly how much he needed to both burn the church to the ground and make it a spectacle, as he knew this might be his only chance to see such a thing. Lighting a long fuse, he took the little time he had to run, as fast as he could, up a nearby hill to an outcrop that gave a good view of the nearby area. As the building lit up, so did his eyes, and the spectacle of wood snapping, glass shattering, and smoke billowing brought a warmth to his heart that had never burned so brightly before. In his euphoria, he lay sprawled across the grass, watching the gleam of the stars and the shine of the moon slowly become overtaken by the thick, black, unholy smoke. When Brand awoke, the smoke had mostly subsided and the sun had begun to shine. Over the lip of the hillside he saw what remained of the church - the peak of the steeple had collapsed in, but much of the tower itself and the shell of the church remained, although deeply charred. As he made his way back into town, he made sure to take as many back roads and off path detours as possible. While he didn’t think he would be caught, someone seeing him out this far when he wasn’t even typically seen by villagers on a day to day basis may cause some light bulbs to go off around town. When he managed to make it home, he decided to lay low for at least a while, worried that the child he saw at the Ag Sale the night prior could be the one loose thread able to trace the crime back to him. After a few weeks passed, Brand began to plan his next carnival of light. About as far south from Hermiston as the first church lay north, there sat another church, although this one was both far more ornate than the first and in proper use. Marvelous stained glass adorned all four walls, and in the belfry sat a magnificent gilded church bell that emitted a sound he came to know well from hearing it weekly his entire life. That night he went on his typical route of thievery, making sure to pick up both magnesium to create a real show and some small explosives to spectacularly shatter the stained glass windows. Upon entering the church, he was admittedly a bit taken aback at the beauty of the building. It was one thing to see it from the outside, as he had many times, but this was the first time he had stepped foot in its walls, and likely the biggest building he had been in by his own memory. As stunned as he was, he wasn’t even able to take in the fullness of what the architecture had to offer, as the light from his lantern was too dim to clear the darkness that remained in the rafters. Picking up his slightly dropped jaw, he quickly got to work, lining the pews with tar and carefully placing the explosives along each windowsill and nook he could find. Weaving a longer fuse than normal, Brand strung it along to a wood pile a ways out from the church and gave it a light. He leaned against the pile, eventually slumping down to sit as the fuse got closer and closer and closer to the church. Once the charge blew, Brand could barely believe what he saw before him. If the interior of the church was the second most beautiful thing he’d seen in his uneventful life, the brief burst of sound and light that came from the destruction of said beauty was number one, no question. Everything collided in a way that he couldn’t describe even if his life depended on it - the windows went first in a stunning explosion of glass, with swirls of thick multicolored smoke billowing out of the holes that were left behind. Then came the belltower, and after some time the church bell hit the ground with a deafening clatter. The fire burned bright and for much longer than he had expected compared to the first church, still going strong even into the next morning. Brand would have loved to stay frozen in that moment forever, but he knew the priests would be around soon, and so he packed his rucksack of what wasn’t used in the explosion and made his way home through the forest. Most of the following day was spent by Brand in the woods around town - he figured if the crime were to end up back at him, he’d want his last few days as an either free or living man to be in nature. While the beauty of destruction captivated him, there was something about nature that brought him peace in a much different way. The rustle of leaves and brush and the noise of the river flowing reminded him of the crinkles of a smoldering fire and the creaking of a building collapsing under its own weight, weakened by flames. Theoretically, he figured, the sounds and sensations weren’t too different on their own, although Brand felt a life of balance had room for both. Setting up his sleeping bag in a clearing, he made a minuscule fire compared to the night before and spent another night under the stars, taking in everything around him as the sounds of nature cradled him into dreamland. The following morning, Brand made it back into town. He passed through the Ag Sale as well on his way home with the intent of hearing about if anyone had seen what happened, and if so, if there was any gossip about the perpetrator. As he loitered, he confirmed his suspicion - there was, in fact, quite a lot of talk on the topic. Theories ranged from the logical - one person posited the idea that it could’ve been a campfire or a vandalism gone awry - to the illogical - lightning had struck the tower on a completely clear night - to the absurd - it had been an inside job by the local fire department, who had expressed an interest in keeping the church bell when they responded to the scene. Brand was glad at least that his name hadn’t come up in any theory, and quietly slipped out to finish his journey home. Over the next few days, Brand grew quite restless. Slowly, the idea that he was getting quite good at this whole arson thing and could feasibly tackle bigger and bigger targets overtook his fear of getting caught. He gradually began to collect more and more and more supplies for a theoretical next adventure, stashing them away in his shed. He tossed around ideas for his next target in his head, but nothing quite struck his fancy. Another church would be retreading ground he’d already conquered, as would be any old abandoned buildings. A home would be, even for him, far too far, as he only set out to destroy and not to kill. The Ag Sale crossed his mind, but it was nestled in a residential area, and thus he feared the fire would spread to nearby homes and cause far more destruction than he intended. At that moment, it hit him like a ton of bricks - in the center of town sat Town Hall, and around Town Hall sat a large man made body of water. Some called it a moat, others a reflecting pool, but it meant that the fire would be contained to Town Hall and nowhere but. Brand began to stack more and more supplies up over time with a target and goal in mind, until eventually his shed and much of his home was hazardously packed with anything that would fizzle, spark, and go boom. A month or so had passed since his last arson. As the winter solstice approached, many things around Hermiston began to change. The weather grew colder and the days grew shorter, and as the weather grew colder the rain was overtaken by snow. The other main difference was the array of lights cast around the town. Hand crafted lamps that glowed any and every color you could think of adorned nearly every building around town, as part of their yearly solstice celebration. While Brand never took part in the decorations, it was one of the rare positive things in life he took no issue with others indulging in. With something to look forward to, however, Brand felt a bit more cheerful this year. He decided, in order to blend in a bit more in anticipation of his grand plan, to take part in the light show. Taking a trip down to the Ag Sale with a never before seen smile on his face, Brand picked up some lamps and headed home. He noticed that while the townspeople made no attempt to initiate conversation with him, they looked at him a bit more warmly than usual as he passed by, replacing their usual look of confusion and shock in seeing him on a rare outing. Returning home, he began to carefully and meticulously string the lamps along his house and shed, with the same precision he had placed the explosives in the church before. Lighting each lamp, he was amazed by the variety of colors and by the vividness with which they shone. As he lit the final wick, he hustled back to admire his handiwork. As he basked in the rainbow of light, his mind wandered. He thought back to his days in the woods and to the idea that the comforts of destruction could be found within many other facets of life. Maybe, after all, a full life could be lived without the balance of destruction and nature. As that last thought sparked, so did a frayed wick in one of the lamps, as an ember tumbled down to ignite some leaves piled in Brand’s yard. Defying the odds, the ember managed to quickly grow to a flame in the dry brush, and sneak along under the top layer of leaves towards his shed, unbeknownst to Brand. The same shed, mind you, that contained enough explosives to demolish a public building. The same shed, mind you, that sat next to a home filled almost to the brim with enough explosives to demolish several public buildings. And the next moment, before he could react, Brand and his home were both a pile of rubble.