The kernel piece for my NaNoWriMo novel attempt... this came from a prompt by Digitalis so blame her....
As the coyotes yipped and yowled their calls
over the scattered buttes of the northern Badlands
storms rolled off the western mountains' purple ramparts
sparking joy in the anatomist of the prairies.
The long, cold winter she had just spent
was at last to let her gather in
the seeds she had sewn, or rahter the flesh.
Not a boothill for six days ride around
the fallen doctor had failed to grace indeed
with a nocturnal visit with her scarred assistant
carrying shovels and picks in the old wagon
that once her father had sold snake-oil from
as they sought to create miners for tightwads
who did not wish to part with wages.
On the cold granite slab quarried from hills
that held the ore so sought as well
by those robber barons who stayed back east
safe inside their mansions, save the few trips
out by the rails in plush Pullman cars
they never had to leave the comfort of
lay her latest attempt at mimicry of creation.
Goggles for eyes, for those spoiled too fast,
and an open chest with great pendulum amid
ribs carved from unearthed tusks of ancient elephants
engraved markings from her grimoires over their length
and a glass door showing the mighty spring
that drives the heart once flesh is revived
by the fury of the storm's forked tongues.
Undaunted by ferocious winds racing ahead of clouds
The doctor from Westphalia called out in elation,
"Hienrich, deploy the Lightning Gatherers quick and carefully
whilst I connect the Rods and windmill shafts
to the Flash Steam Catalyzer and Perpetual Gears!"
Two bodies moved around the Dutch inspired wind tower
doing the business to harness Spring's first rumbler.
Outside the vast expanses of canvas arms spun
with speed only beat by rumors over Semaphores,
the shaft entering wooden gears inside the tower
that spun not just down to a millstone
but up to spin the ball tipped spikes
made of copper wiith silver arcane symbols
that called upon dark gods and foul demons.
To the east in town, all cowered down
fearing not the beast of the storm
but that the doctor had once more forgotten
to craft a protective circle 'round her laboratory
as she had the last six damned tries
and unleash the fury of some hellborn spawn
upon their isolated and too vulnerable farming town.
When the blue glow of Saint Elmo's Fire
bathed all metal, living and dead flesh too
Elisa Frikkenup having been ordered to move away
from the mines after one experiment went awry
and a whole vien of gold became lead
all due to a misplace sigil or lever
Elisa never was sure until her past due end.
At last the contraption gathered in Prometheus' Gift
not once, twice or thrice, but eight times
the storm's forked tongues kissed the whirling receptors
and raced down to animate a horrorible thing
The last blast came with a tornadic companion
and all and sundry were raised up high
scattered by the djinni's frightful flight in fear.
It took her six days after that night
for Doctor Elisa to find her creation again
already at the Mother Lode's support town
but not mining, working or being otherwise productive.
Nay, she had failed again, to her dismay
walking under full moon, her invention was picketting
seeking by its sign, more cranks, less hours....
Now, if I can make a novel of this and have it work....
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