Chapter 2: The Unhinged

In the continuum of the hallowing palace of the broken,

This is the designation of the twisted cathedral and harbors of the broken god, the fifth-century Catholic Church, and the court of Azathoth, all submerged in one formal structure.

With the potter of balance in its unhinged size, its intangible creed of melancholy chimes singing whispering tones

Murphy can just watch in bizarre silence and fathom the ugly and beauty. 

Three skies were connected, expressing the unimaginary essence of existence.

Red.

Three monstrous clog-wheels, rotating and powered by a flowing, colored mercury nebula, were the three churches of the three vessels.

Murphy stood in desperation, forgetting himself and the questions and whereabouts that lay ahead of him.

He observed the stretched sky of existence; in there there could be seen clouds forming in a desolate wasteland of pure aesthetics of unperceivable creation; he could stare at it forever, leeching and hatching onto the unfathomable troubles of beauty.

As stars linger longer into the facade strikes of black and blue, glimmering in the starry darkness, as two dwindled moons and two shorelines created by the midst of the red bleeding sun, suffocating in its outline of the godly orbital rings that carried the tempest in shore-darkness. 

The city stretched far into the existence ceiling of mad colors; it swayed in the oceans of creation. slowly rumbling with a loud crack and a ghost-quiet gloom, in two moons encircling the red sun, railing into orbit, with the omni-kinetic gas coated with fractured Teri-sects; it remains into the epicenter of all things and will be far from reach, the end of all things, and the paradise of all things, the far stretched and southing coats of blue amber and sunrise; it conjures the three churches and its constants, and its trials of gods; these evangelists are the rulers of Lusanova, the dictators, and the witches of Lausnova, the temple of churches. 

Murphy stood and glanced at the blazing colors in the skies of Lausnova as 13 bright and colorful stars descended with tranquility.

Following the path of the descending stars, which is surrounding him. 

There he stood in the trials of the dictators and witches, beckoning on the solid pavement in sudden shock. 

The creeds of the stars formed a circle around Murphy. With the billowing blaze and a following chill, Murphy could not dare move a single strand of his hair and stood there in a frozen statue to watch the situation unfold itself. 

The ground shook with tremendous growls, as if a gigantic beast were to awaken from centillions of years of slumber, as the force grew unstable and harsher, like strong storms, throwing Murphy around like a ragdoll in a cage of blazing rods. 

The place was orchestrated into segments of walls; stairs climbed and created pathways connecting the intersection where Murphy was standing; patterns began to materialize on the solid walls and stairs.

Walls began to erupt and jolt tall and high, and the star sat on top of the immeasurable walls. Murphy felt the size of the monstrous walls and the isolation he felt as he stood in the jail of the mountains. 

Yet the breaching nightmares began to infect Murphy's sanity.

There is what lies above the stars: the city of Lausnova and Murphy.

Monstrous, ugliest, ungodly, chaotic creation,

The eyes of the inevitable,

The mouth of unenviable doom,

The tendrils of wrapping stars and the tails of churches

Murphy aligned his fear with his subtle motion as he wandered into the depths of the oceans. 

A loud grumble in the spaghetti storm, a deranged hunger following with thunders of ravines taste for gods

"...WANDERERS ARE TASTY FOR A TREAT OF THE LIKES FROM YOU, I SWALLOW IMBECILES WHO ATTEMPT TO EXCEED THIS FINAL GATEWAY, THE GATEWAY TO REACH THE PLACE YOU SEEK.

A gargling and inaudible voice of thunder spoke to Murphy.

THE RED ABBADON( THE RED EXISTENCE)

In fear. 

The judgment is near.