I'm on a snowy clifftop. I don't know how..or why.. This place defies all logic.
The voices demanded I come here. Said he would die if I didn't obey them. Of course, they taunted me. I don't even know how they were communicating with me, they don't have any sort of form.
They can't be real, none of this can be real.
But alas, they are..and I am here, on this snowy clifftop. Possibly awaiting my death. I haven't heard from Anathema in a while so..hopefully he hasn't snapped yet.
i'm happy today
are you happy today?
-Phoenix
Saturday 12 October 2013
Thursday 10 October 2013
"Stranger Aeons, and Death did Die."
It's been a over a month since my imprisonment in this, for lack of a better term, city. A door appeared where I first entered that hellish room, and, hoping it was back to my own world, entered the shadowy door-frame. I was presented with a sprawling city, with innumerable buildings and streets, seemingly arranged as a maze. I wandered the silent, forlorn streets for weeks, always finding just enough food and water to sustain myself when I grew weak.
No one else walks the streets, though, at night, or what I perceive as night, I can almost hear a haunting, blasphemous chorale, played on what passes for a piano. The music is, in a strange way, soothing, as it brings a vague sense of familiarity to the otherwise inhospitable city of the damned.
I haven't heard any voices since my entrapment, which is both comforting and terrifying at the same time. I can say with some certainty that I am not, in fact, going insane like I thought I was, or in the same manner as I expected, yet, on the other hand, it brings a sense of dread in that some thing, some unknown and malevolent deity, lead me into this empty city for some purpose, whether it be to show me answers to some mystery, or simply to fuck with me.
I have a vague feeling that I had some goal before I became lost in this realm, but I can no longer recall anything of my previous exploits. My life has been taken by this hell, my memories were robbed by my damning isolation.
I can't even remember my own name.
No one else walks the streets, though, at night, or what I perceive as night, I can almost hear a haunting, blasphemous chorale, played on what passes for a piano. The music is, in a strange way, soothing, as it brings a vague sense of familiarity to the otherwise inhospitable city of the damned.
I haven't heard any voices since my entrapment, which is both comforting and terrifying at the same time. I can say with some certainty that I am not, in fact, going insane like I thought I was, or in the same manner as I expected, yet, on the other hand, it brings a sense of dread in that some thing, some unknown and malevolent deity, lead me into this empty city for some purpose, whether it be to show me answers to some mystery, or simply to fuck with me.
I have a vague feeling that I had some goal before I became lost in this realm, but I can no longer recall anything of my previous exploits. My life has been taken by this hell, my memories were robbed by my damning isolation.
I can't even remember my own name.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)