It has lived in the darkness for years. Flitting from mind to mind. It giggles hysterically at it's play things.Its a small thing, insignificant mostly.
It plays with your head,alters your memories, fills that space behind your eyes with imigianedslights and faults.
Some minds are not right for it, will not harbor it, and soon it iscast out to flit and flitter its way to a new mind, a new chance totake root.
Occasionally it finds a home. A perfect match. A mind already fullof rot, a soul ready for suggestion.
Then it begins.
The nightmares, the visions, the pain. It never ends.
Sometimes there is insanity. Sometimes there is murder, but alwaysthere is the thing, small and mostly insignificant, unless it finds the right host.
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1 comments:
I still say you should try submitting a few things to WCP! :-)
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