Jan 2015
The delusional expectancy of arriving to a unified decision under a false, and somewhat mysterious banner leaves the tender footed Neanderthals to drawl and crawl towards their inevitable demise, at the hands of a lesser evil, catering to their cowardice, the ultimate usurper.
…
Barriers formed and forged in concrete molds left behind by a war mongering ancestry devoured by their ****** progeny.
An enemy approaches…
Throne rooms held in recessed hills, concealed in a shroud of fog, left off by the chilled steam stewing off yesteryears loss.
Heroes transported on expensive tapestry, in banners provoking deeds of old, and the memory of their meaning.
Hold in masses of collected honor.
Catapulted horrors break the line.
Strains of panic retreat in woeful singularity.
Fear infects the herd as arrowheads of cowardice break the chain-mail guard.
Women and children pushed behind a diseased king as he purges his principles in the face of death.
He seals the entrance in stone.
A son, known for his great misdeeds, and vast misfortunes takes step before his small family as the army approaches.
In a hallowed tomb as a mere boy, he heard the tune, uttered from the devil’s lips.
A summoning song.
Here he sings the treacherous tune as the sounds of heavy marching fill the halls.
The last barrier breaks.
Shrieks of terror erupt.
Demise is at hand.
Men lose their valor as they turn and flee, only to be met by a concrete reminder of their inevitable fatality.
The child’s voice grows demonic as the words begin to devour his soul.
There’s an odd presence in the room.
Death is prolonged…momentarily.
A void is opened.
The army begins to flee.
Victory is at hand.
Then the illusion of their invasion lifts, as soldiers, once more than visible, turn to ghosts, and finally fade from battle.
Cheers break out, only for a moment.
A hole opens in the center of the room, at first no larger than the size of a pin, but it expands outward at an alarming pace.
Guards scramble to funnel their people out of the breach.
An evil comes forth, once barred from the walls of this land.
It antagonizes the people with tales of its delusional sorcery.
Then thanks the young boy who brought it forth.
A world is soon devoured.
The end.
…
Barriers formed and forged in concrete molds left behind by a war mongering ancestry devoured by their ****** progeny.
An enemy approaches…
Throne rooms held in recessed hills, concealed in a shroud of fog, left off by the chilled steam stewing off yesteryears loss.
Heroes transported on expensive tapestry, in banners provoking deeds of old, and the memory of their meaning.
Hold in masses of collected honor.
Catapulted horrors break the line.
Strains of panic retreat in woeful singularity.
Fear infects the herd as arrowheads of cowardice break the chain-mail guard.
Women and children pushed behind a diseased king as he purges his principles in the face of death.
He seals the entrance in stone.
A son, known for his great misdeeds, and vast misfortunes takes step before his small family as the army approaches.
In a hallowed tomb as a mere boy, he heard the tune, uttered from the devil’s lips.
A summoning song.
Here he sings the treacherous tune as the sounds of heavy marching fill the halls.
The last barrier breaks.
Shrieks of terror erupt.
Demise is at hand.
Men lose their valor as they turn and flee, only to be met by a concrete reminder of their inevitable fatality.
The child’s voice grows demonic as the words begin to devour his soul.
There’s an odd presence in the room.
Death is prolonged…momentarily.
A void is opened.
The army begins to flee.
Victory is at hand.
Then the illusion of their invasion lifts, as soldiers, once more than visible, turn to ghosts, and finally fade from battle.
Cheers break out, only for a moment.
A hole opens in the center of the room, at first no larger than the size of a pin, but it expands outward at an alarming pace.
Guards scramble to funnel their people out of the breach.
An evil comes forth, once barred from the walls of this land.
It antagonizes the people with tales of its delusional sorcery.
Then thanks the young boy who brought it forth.
A world is soon devoured.
The end.
