THANK YOU NIKKO YOU FANTASTIC BASTARDNIKKOYOU FUCKING ROCK
Halls, Walls, and the Fall.When we're youngWe all craft bricksTo build a great city,And raise our walls.We spend time carefullyChoosing a brickWhat color willBe decorating the halls?I was no differentChoosing my bricksUntil I was specialI had more colors than mostYet I took too longSelecting too bright,too flamboyant, and nowI've nowhere to host.And so I looked aroundSeeing others with theirBland, but complete citiesHow I envy their coin.What have I to return toJust a ground of broken hopesMany unique, strewn colors, but whatUse are they, if they are not joined?
Darkness Uncertain“And like that. Gone. Not a trace of the boat or the men. They’ve looked. Oh, they’ve looked indeed, but looking at pitch black ain’t gonna help you none. They say that you can sometimes see some shapes down there ‘n the depths. Fish, anyone’ll say, but any fisher worth ‘is salt’ll tell you it ain’t. Fish don’t swim like that,” Marv intoned ominously. He brushed back his graying hair, smoothing it over out of habit like he always does when he’s trying to impress us. “Can you feel it? They say this is one of the deepest lochs in Scotland. Can you feel the pull o’ that abyss? Like the devil’s callin’ to you?” The old bastard grinned. I looked out over the side of the boat. Nothing but dark waters, but I did. I felt the waters pulling me down. I craned my neck back into the boat. Next to me, Shaun shifted uncomfortably. I looked at my watch to distract my brain from Marv’s old ghost
The KeyOn the outside, the house looked immaculate. The Keyes family purchased the mundane manor only a few days prior. Its white exterior was once new, but now it only looked decadent and neglected, the white paint flaking off the shutters. All the stairs creaked slightly, the doors protested, and the wind always seemed to find its way inside the house, forcing its pervasive fingers in some crack somewhere in the massive manse. At night, the howl of the wind masked something worse. In the basement, from behind the only locked door in the entire house there came forth a myriad of noises, unbeknownst to the naive family. Said door was no ordinary entrance. The bottom of the door had been eaten away, perhaps by termites, so that the splinters scraped upon the stone floor when it slowly swung open. The only thing keeping the door closed was an old, rusted padlock with a small slot for a key that was nowhere to be found. Moving out of urban New York, the Keyes family looked to the ru
CatharsisThe rocky edifice stood straight.Against even the largest of tidal waves, it somehow stood strong. Nobody knew how, for it must have existed for several thousands of years in similar conditions, yet it retained its shape. Hundreds of feet high, the stony wall appeared to have the shape of a face cut into it. Whether naturally, or by the will of some pagan god, the face stood watch over the endless sea. Somehow, the face had retained its shape despite eons of punishment. The tired-out forehead sagged, the once-stout eyes sunken, its cheeks hollow, it was almost pitiful to look upon the wall now. Even the more fervent, who worshipped the wall as some idol of the will of some obscure deity, saw pain in the stony expression of the wall. And yet, somehow, the wall never fell. The precarious altar, covered with graffiti both religious and malicious, that sat atop its grassy crown never fell. Wave after wave would pound the face. Sometimes it was just a myriad of small waves, la