In Swathes of Brooding Light

It seeped down through the roots and the grass, greying and spewing. It discoloured the flowers, the wild moor risen orchid a mere memory by noon. A frightful array of sparrows, deer and others of the hunted, sat in an auditorium of hopeless sound, screaming through their eyes and all was silent. It dripped forth from the cliff edge and perverted the roof tops, turning a sickening red and staining the window sills, much to the amusement of the loveless orphans, amid the cobbles eating dead birds. The moon arose six hours early and spoke a kind word to the beloved sun, who took his golden blanket from our touch and the dripping gathered in their eyelids. The pointed and dramatic tops of the harbour roofs bellowed and threw tiles at the next, their eyes tiny with rage. The Ballet house ate the dancers. The smugglers retreat lit the hillside with a fierce shade of orange.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 26, 2025

In a scene of a childlike destruction, of flying stone and brick dust the dripping found its way to their well hole and need I go on... The sail boats lashed on the waves began to untie themselves from their mooring as the moon threw sapphire's down on the puppeteer's stand. The drunken and deformed chocolatier thrashed the children's backs with a burning snake as the fathers and mothers dug the holes in preparation. Oh the times are somewhat macabre....play me thy flute and mould a serpent to strike at the face of Jupiter. Yet not far across the meadow, the gathered in their winter attire skated on a lake of frozen absinth....do not yet waste a drop. As the artificial light from the moon glistens on their tinsel, a lonely stargazer walks into the waves.

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 26, 2025

And as the vicious tides did swirl and break upon the rocks, The weeds seemed to slither, as though in serpent form. And climb they did, toward the edge of the cliffs. Licking at the nestling's of young fledglings and moaning with a sound akin to the worst of... Nights such as these have become more frequent since my foray into the woods. The moon dragging me towards the gypsies that are said to camp near the river. T'was cold evenings like this that the trees creaked in agony, and the birds did gather in unsettling numbers. Long past into the forgotten times... ...thrashed upon the village stones I was much to the merriment of the throng who had gathered and gladly quaffed the mead to my misfortunes.

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025

For in their deluded deyes my trials of summoning the powers of the moon and frivolities with the earth haunted the very shadows they feared the most. My flocks of skeletal avian fiends did swoop and take the children... picking at the very eyes and scratching with feverish dementia. But the spells... drenched in my own failings of brandy, had become too powerful to control. The Ballet of the rodents did swell in numbers to the morbid concerto, and my feet danced amongst them awash with opiates and the blackest of magic.

Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 26, 2025

The summoning of the crows did not occur until the next morn, but the sun did soon set again upon the villages with great haste and menace that day. For when I discovered my fathers novel,and studied its teachings, the truths became a fevered hallucagnenic quest for vengeance, encrypted within the inks of his hand lay the secrets of the alchemy of Erhjned.

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025

Incantations lead to foul things from within the soil. Giving birth to serpent roots of the trees to do my biddings And play with such things I did, like memories of childhood frolicking in the vineyards chasing the vermin with stick and stone. Only to return weeping into my mother arms with grazed knees and dripping rabbit skins. But those days have now long since past...

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 26, 2025

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