The door was ajar, light flowed from within the room, golden light like that of an opened chest of treasure stolen from a pirates treasure map …

What have you done? Why couldn’t you keep your words to yourself and not sing that rhyme! Why couldn’t you just let it go ….

The stars don’t look the same from here. But you have been looking at them your whole life. Yes but these are not those stars. These stars are darker but brighter. How can that be? That is just silly. But it is true, their fire burns brighter but there is a darkness about them that if you look at them the right way, you can see.

“Well fuck your games and fuck this noise. I have no time for such things. I had fallen asleep in the keep of my tower and in my dreams I grew to forget who I am. But the muse came and he sung a song that awoke my heart and awake he said, you lazy wench, there is much to be done! And so I stepped from my tower and my body fought every step and my mind cried to go back to sleep, fuck this world it screamed. But somewhere within, a flame burned deep and the dead coals began to fill with heat and the memory of so much that had come before, was returning to my mind and so it was that not only did I step from my tower, but I pulled that fucker down and threw the bricks and stone and mortar and blood that held it all together far from me. And for a time I walked, in the fields of red, the flowers kissing my skin and I heard no noise, heard no whisper, heard no inner voice. Just me and the fucking rabbit who didn’t breath a word.
And maybe, forever and a day I might have walked oblivious in these fields, but some little fuckers kept throwing pebbles in my field, come and play they taunted me and I said no, so they threw some more and the pebbles caught fire and my field of red became a fucking inferno but still I said no as I climbed into the weeping willow down by the stream of broken dreams. Yet still they threw pebbles and finally one did hit my head, and than another and another and I thought to turn my wrath but to do so, I would need my magic and so it was that those little fuckers with their pebbles woke what sought to go back to sleep.
And now the field is covered in the red ash of what has come before, new life will shoot but the ruins will remain barren and I will remember who I was who I am and who I will be and there will be chaos, and there will be fucking mayhem and there will be rum, because there is always rum. The cookies are baking in the oven, the alters are rebuilding themselves in plain sight, the words unspoken woven across the scapes of time, sealed with the kiss of the lust of the greatest devil of all.”

What has we dones? Where have we become? What is this place of sharp barren rocks, of smoldering smoke and the feel of death? What is that black shape that slowly slunk across our paths? Was it a dog or a really big cat? This is a place of darkness and shadow, and what seems is not what it is. Is this the very bottom? I don’t know, but I think maybe it is the beginning of the end but around the other way it might go. Alls I knows, is that there are things in here, and they is not what they seem …


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