Philosophical Foxes are pixels with inner lives 💭🦊 www.philosophicalfoxes.com
REPL: Murder, Mystery
Sunset painted the verdant landscape of The Shadowlands in brilliant hues of crimson and orange, casting long shadows over the lush undergrowth. The vibrant wildlife had begun to settle down for the day, their calls fading into the serene whisper of the breeze. Nestled beneath the sprawling roots of a majestic oak tree, concealed by a moss-covered hatch, was the quaint den of two foxes: Laguna Lacuna and REPL. REPL possessed wisdom beyond her few years, a precocious and curious kit who -- des...
REPL: Murder, Mystery
Sunset painted the verdant landscape of The Shadowlands in brilliant hues of crimson and orange, casting long shadows over the lush undergrowth. The vibrant wildlife had begun to settle down for the day, their calls fading into the serene whisper of the breeze. Nestled beneath the sprawling roots of a majestic oak tree, concealed by a moss-covered hatch, was the quaint den of two foxes: Laguna Lacuna and REPL. REPL possessed wisdom beyond her few years, a precocious and curious kit who -- des...
(Picnic, Lightning): Who will step into the light?
Sixth and final passage (All regrets – suspicious vegetation – a blessing of chestnuts – sleep – midpoint ossuary – necks all wrung – a madman’s holiday – confession – dividends of blood – the song – strange kin – Nothingness – waiting) These are long days. There will be more long days to come. Where to begin? I write this from I do not know where. It is, I hazard, a place on no map. Our homeland’s hidden belly, beset with fuming, igneous scars; hell’s egress. I look about us in the reeking, ...
(Picnic, Lightning): Who will step into the light?
Sixth and final passage (All regrets – suspicious vegetation – a blessing of chestnuts – sleep – midpoint ossuary – necks all wrung – a madman’s holiday – confession – dividends of blood – the song – strange kin – Nothingness – waiting) These are long days. There will be more long days to come. Where to begin? I write this from I do not know where. It is, I hazard, a place on no map. Our homeland’s hidden belly, beset with fuming, igneous scars; hell’s egress. I look about us in the reeking, ...
Redemption: Absentia Pass
I've tried to imagine what it must be like to awaken fully formed, possessing certain skills but without a past to remember, lost in a world of amnesiacs. It seems terrifying to me, even more terrifying than what I've experienced these last few weeks and months. But here and now, mercy will destroy us. We thought nothing could live in this inhospitable mountain pass. I’ve lost count of the days we’ve huddled in this cave against the raging winter storm outside, deep in what we hope ...
Redemption: Absentia Pass
I've tried to imagine what it must be like to awaken fully formed, possessing certain skills but without a past to remember, lost in a world of amnesiacs. It seems terrifying to me, even more terrifying than what I've experienced these last few weeks and months. But here and now, mercy will destroy us. We thought nothing could live in this inhospitable mountain pass. I’ve lost count of the days we’ve huddled in this cave against the raging winter storm outside, deep in what we hope ...
(Picnic, Lightning): Journals
I tell this story for I know not what. No chance it will be read, I am sure of that. Ah, but Picnic, you may say, perhaps someday our ancestors will find these journals and perhaps they will read them and perhaps perhaps perhaps History is a story of forgetting. What we remember is a withering fragment of what we forget. How could it not be? We have all felt the fullness of our own lives and it is beyond translation, past conservation. We cannot know our ancestors any more than they know us. ...
(Picnic, Lightning): Journals
I tell this story for I know not what. No chance it will be read, I am sure of that. Ah, but Picnic, you may say, perhaps someday our ancestors will find these journals and perhaps they will read them and perhaps perhaps perhaps History is a story of forgetting. What we remember is a withering fragment of what we forget. How could it not be? We have all felt the fullness of our own lives and it is beyond translation, past conservation. We cannot know our ancestors any more than they know us. ...
Laguna Lacuna: You Can't Pour From an Empty Lake
The journeying Foxes had lost all sense of time. Had they been traveling for weeks or months or even longer? Still, they kept moving onwards. They had known the trek would be arduous, but it was so dry. Where had all the water gone? Were the lands to the North and the East always like this? Or was the parched landscape of tied in with the UnFox and the disappearance of the Grand Hannibal and all the other difficulties they’d already faced and ran from and feared? In the midst of all this, Lag...
Laguna Lacuna: You Can't Pour From an Empty Lake
The journeying Foxes had lost all sense of time. Had they been traveling for weeks or months or even longer? Still, they kept moving onwards. They had known the trek would be arduous, but it was so dry. Where had all the water gone? Were the lands to the North and the East always like this? Or was the parched landscape of tied in with the UnFox and the disappearance of the Grand Hannibal and all the other difficulties they’d already faced and ran from and feared? In the midst of all this, Lag...
