So this is it...what next?
03-20-2018, 03:03 PM
The high pitch noise. Getting stronger and stronger. Must be getting close now.
It must have started the moment I arrived in this land. I know that now. At first I mistook it for the wind. The incessant wind. Could drive anyone insane. Made you so senseless you cant tell what is inside or what's outside your head.
Maybe it was wishful thinking. Not wanting to recognise I've been cursed. Some spell on me.
But it got stronger. How many games I played - like fooling that female into going hunting for me - that was just biding my time. Procrastinating. The more time I took the more the high pitch sound would grow. I thought keeping moving might take it away but no. Its some directional thing. This is meant to happen. Being driven by someone else do you think?
Watching the shapes on the wall. Nervous shadows. Like they are afraid to see what happens next. Thanks a bunch. As if I had any say in the matter. I mean who would choose to come here.
Dark corridors. A long dark tunnel - creepy and scary. In practical terms I'd be a fool to go in. So many chances for an ambush. And the tunnels don't look too safe either. The tell tale signs of decay, the ground dragging the tunnels back into the earth. Order restored after a brief piece of human intervention. Really just scratching the surface. They are gone and soon all their work will be too.
Scary, yes I suppose. It's only just dawned on me. I know this place. Intimately. See that rock over there, I know before I look all the patterns on the rock, the deep incision marks. I've dreamt about this place for weeks. I thought it was me, digging up a long suppressed memory. But no. Someone has control of my dreams.
I didn't think it was possible to control your own dreams. They are like the weather of the mind, flowing across the mind, gathering, shaping. building it all up - then gone.
Only this is so much stronger. How can this be chance? A whistling in his head that gets louder the closer he gets to here. And dreams invading his sleep. He was meant to come here.
And that prediction, from that mad old blind soothsayer. He'd thought it a joke. Someone important will meet him soon. That says nothing. Everyone is important - we just have to find out why. Well so says the logic. I can hear footsteps. I think I'm about to see who it is who wants me here.
It must have started the moment I arrived in this land. I know that now. At first I mistook it for the wind. The incessant wind. Could drive anyone insane. Made you so senseless you cant tell what is inside or what's outside your head.
Maybe it was wishful thinking. Not wanting to recognise I've been cursed. Some spell on me.
But it got stronger. How many games I played - like fooling that female into going hunting for me - that was just biding my time. Procrastinating. The more time I took the more the high pitch sound would grow. I thought keeping moving might take it away but no. Its some directional thing. This is meant to happen. Being driven by someone else do you think?
Watching the shapes on the wall. Nervous shadows. Like they are afraid to see what happens next. Thanks a bunch. As if I had any say in the matter. I mean who would choose to come here.
Dark corridors. A long dark tunnel - creepy and scary. In practical terms I'd be a fool to go in. So many chances for an ambush. And the tunnels don't look too safe either. The tell tale signs of decay, the ground dragging the tunnels back into the earth. Order restored after a brief piece of human intervention. Really just scratching the surface. They are gone and soon all their work will be too.
Scary, yes I suppose. It's only just dawned on me. I know this place. Intimately. See that rock over there, I know before I look all the patterns on the rock, the deep incision marks. I've dreamt about this place for weeks. I thought it was me, digging up a long suppressed memory. But no. Someone has control of my dreams.
I didn't think it was possible to control your own dreams. They are like the weather of the mind, flowing across the mind, gathering, shaping. building it all up - then gone.
Only this is so much stronger. How can this be chance? A whistling in his head that gets louder the closer he gets to here. And dreams invading his sleep. He was meant to come here.
And that prediction, from that mad old blind soothsayer. He'd thought it a joke. Someone important will meet him soon. That says nothing. Everyone is important - we just have to find out why. Well so says the logic. I can hear footsteps. I think I'm about to see who it is who wants me here.