This is my first new post in a while. For the last couple months, I’ve been busy working on an online project that’s been buzzing around my head for the better part of a year, and now it’s just about ready to go.
VIA: a perambulatory tale will be an ongoing graphic novel that is:
1- a story without characters, and
2- a love-letter to the horizon
Beyond that, you’ll just have to see for yourself. Regular posts begin Monday, September 1st at perambulate.net. I promise weirdness and wonder.
Of the many (many) unanswered questions regarding the Reverse Centaur, the greatest and most hotly debated by mythozoologists is this: how did it put on the loincl0th?
In the grand scheme of cosmic justice, this beast fulfills a role complementary to its ordinary cousin. Whereas the traditional Harpy swoops from on high to torment the wicked, the Reverse Harpy seeks to reward the fair-to-decent, usually by dropping in uninvited with a home-cooked meal. Culinary opinions on the Reverse Harpy’s cooking are split. While their dishes display an undeniable flair for color, texture, and flavor, most diners find the regurgitated rabbit bones off-putting.
The less said about the Reverse Satyr the better.
Reclusive by necessity, this beast is the opposite of its feared cousin in every way. Tragically, upon gazing at anyone, the Reverse Medusa promptly turns to stone.
A lesser known cousin to the majestic “sea horse” of yore, the Reverse Hippocampus dwells in shallow lakes and rivers, where it plods along the bottom while carefully keeping its gills submerged. Few mortals have ridden upon this fabled beast; those who have done so describe the experience as “unexhilarating.”
Combining the leftover parts of the conventional griffin- head and front legs of a lion, eagle’s back half (minus the wings)- the Reverse Griffin is a proud and profoundly insecure beast. Due to its extreme front-heaviness, it has a tendency to fall on its face while pursuing prey. Nonetheless, mocking the reverse griffin is not advised.