You see the light of long dead stars. Your existence is nothing but an echo of a dying god's screams. The unseen converges. Surrounds you. And it tightens like a noose.
Writing
of reading
1999
Read books
eugh eugh eugh
Oh you poor sweet summer child
Mine mine mine the power stones. Get in the mine.
Get in line
Thanks for this chapter even with your current busy schedule = )
I like this. Thanks for this work =3 . Hits all the right spots with the current state. Buut noow i doont haave anny iddea off whhat too wrrite neext
I laughed to as he called for the emergency conclave