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 Posted: Sun Mar 11, 2007 8:32 pm
A wooden sign apon her door reads:
As it was written in the blood of our fathers and their fathers before, death is but a silent slumber in which we are yet to wake. Among the immortal this slumber is one we can only dream of in our ruthless journey for an escape, learning we can not but help to go another day praying apon victim after victim. Never being able to love, cry, feel. Our lost souls travel the Earth searching for a reason, a reason to go on. Some may say it can be helped, but the truth that they must see is that there is no way out.
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Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2007 3:42 pm
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Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2007 2:21 pm
"those words...I feel like I've read them somewhere before," I say walking up behind someone standing infront of this strange door. "Did you write them?"
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