AlisterSilver

 There is a place So macabre and arcane. In the deepest, darkest corners of reality, Where we sing ancient melodies from tattered tomes amongst bleached skulls, Under the moonlight close overhead. If you see the gypsy's cart outside, You will be lying in a forest near sleep, Or death. Just wave them down and nod politely to the passengers- There will be wolves and odd creatures among this company, Pretend you don’t notice them. Mostly, there will be shades of other mortals, Lost within their own dreams, Severed from you indefinitely by the veil that lies between all humans. The gypsies travel far and wide, Across plains and realms w

Golem  A young girl was once disturbed in her sleep as she rested in her bed, wheezing and struggling simply to go on. She felt fatigue, a dark, creeping sense of dread and despair which clutched her tightly-a feeling far too present in her slowly diminishing adolescent life. She lifted from her large sheets slowly and walked to her patio door, from which a strong and cold gust of wind blew open the door to the outside world, as if the cold and unforgiving dead of winter night was greeting her, or perhaps the emotion was pure hallucination. She felt sorrow in the wind, as if nature itself wept for what she did to this girl.