Miscellanea from the Lost Quarter and beyond.

Dreaming State

It was a time of nightmares. Minds gripped by the most fevered horrors. Invasion and blood, the unclean and shadowed threats lurking behind every smiling face. No safe harbours to be found.  Neighbours debasing themselves, selling their souls to the highest bidder and willing to defile all that was sacred and true. All that remained was the cruellest of jokes. Foulness triumphant. 

They were consumed by it, unable to look away. Not wanting to. It was important to bear witness, no matter how sickening. How could this be happening? How could they allow it to? Something had to be done. Truth and honour restored. Stability. 

But there was no solid ground to return to. Only these teeming wretched seas, a storm forever on the horizon. They looked and looked, filled with rage and sorrow. How could this be so unending? How could it not? How far they had fallen. So far and falling still. 

The whispers were the worst. Insistent and insidious. Those stern-faced and noble looking ones who declaimed that things were not as they seemed. Truth still held. There was a core foundation, all that had come before, that had been built upon, layer by layer, century upon century. It was there and if only they could stand upon it they would see.  

How could they not see that the edifice was already gone, that the only thing now was to rebuild? But first it all had to be washed away. There was no other choice. Horror must be matched with horror, suffering with anguish, violence with vengeance. Eyes for eyes, hands for hands, blood for blood. The van, the masked face, the shackles and chains and the unblinking eye.  

Do not look away. Do not look away. Keep looking. See what is coming. See what will be done to finally end this. The future is blood and death, kill or be killed, and doing what needs doing no matter the cost. The coming storm. Were they lost within it or riding its encroaching wave? 

Outside, the rain falling in a steady, gentle patter. The earth green and vibrant. A new day and a new season. These are dark times, troubled times, times of fear and blood. Turn away and hold fast. We must do what is necessary.  

The screams are the worst. Whose are they?