CthulhuPeople
Lord of Altera
Ceaseless dripping in a black eternal abyss nearly drives me to madness as I take a step along the cobble ground. With the pallid face of a weeping bride stinging my grey matter I press on, hoping to find my answers in this blackness. I can sense others around me, forging on alongside in this hopeless endeavor towards nothingness. How long have we been here? Hours? Millenia? It is not quite possible to say, not even possible to determine. All counting is useless without a means for knowing if you are truly counting. Do we even move, or are we shifting motionlessly along Victorian pavements, praying for the Ripper to come and claim us all like his harlots. Are they with him now- that great Pharaoh- carousing through the Field of Reeds and supping on the hearts of lesser men?
The mind sinks to the darkest of dungeons on this journey, sojourning in deep pits of anger and depression that is enough to crush the will of weak men. I have heard their cries like the deepest of oceans: soothing and incomplete.
I feel my body changing. Adapting, or devolving back to our basest of figures? Though who of us knows what that is to be? I suppose soon we will all find out. Just as Alhazred spoke, they will come.
The mind sinks to the darkest of dungeons on this journey, sojourning in deep pits of anger and depression that is enough to crush the will of weak men. I have heard their cries like the deepest of oceans: soothing and incomplete.
I feel my body changing. Adapting, or devolving back to our basest of figures? Though who of us knows what that is to be? I suppose soon we will all find out. Just as Alhazred spoke, they will come.
Last edited:
