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The crimson haze began to clear as static filled her ears A rhythmic, scratching melody that cut through all her fears She turned to see the silhouette amidst the drifting smoke And for a fleeting heartbeat, the spell of fury broke The shadow stretched, the antlers rose, the dial-tone hummed deep A presence from the rubble that the grave refused to keep "Alastor?" she whispered, her voice a fractured thing While shadows danced around him like a puppet on a string He brushed the soot from off his sleeve and straightened out his bow His eyes like glowing radio dials, a terrifying glow "Why, Charlie, dear, you look surprised! Did you think the show was through? The curtains may have fallen, but I'm still here with you." The fire in her heart flickered, a mix of hope and dread To find a living soul among the mountains of the dead But as he grinned his jagged grin, she saw the truth so plain The Demon hadn't come to mourn, but to revel in the reign She clutched her hands, her knuckles white, her power pulsing red The only friend still standing where the others lay in bed A partner in the wreckage, a witness to the fall As the Radio Demon’s laughter echoed through the hollowed hall
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Jan 17
Jan 17, 2026 at 1:26 PM UTC
Hope and Dread in the Rubble (the fourth poem in the series)
The crimson haze began to clear as static filled her ears A rhythmic, scratching melody that cut through all her fears She turned to see the silhouette amidst the drifting smoke And for a fleeting heartbeat, the spell of fury broke The shadow stretched, the antlers rose, the dial-tone hummed deep A presence from the rubble that the grave refused to keep "Alastor?" she whispered, her voice a fractured thing While shadows danced around him like a puppet on a string He brushed the soot from off his sleeve and straightened out his bow His eyes like glowing radio dials, a terrifying glow "Why, Charlie, dear, you look surprised! Did you think the show was through? The curtains may have fallen, but I'm still here with you." The fire in her heart flickered, a mix of hope and dread To find a living soul among the mountains of the dead But as he grinned his jagged grin, she saw the truth so plain The Demon hadn't come to mourn, but to revel in the reign She clutched her hands, her knuckles white, her power pulsing red The only friend still standing where the others lay in bed A partner in the wreckage, a witness to the fall As the Radio Demon’s laughter echoed through the hollowed hall
LotusLovebug
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Jan 17
Jan 17, 2026 at 1:26 PM UTC
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