The night creeps along with or without me, I must have listened to that music box about a thousand times by now, yet here I still am, mind as muddled as the pages before me. Ink splattered about dotting just about everything, from the table to my own paws, I've been scribbling yet all I see are words, not conversation, not language.

The clock in the back continues to intimidate me, as I feel it will soon foretell the end of it all, it will usher in it's demons of order while I frantically scramble under the stress of my own chaos. Curse this foul ink, my monsters, my creations and my quill have all but abandoned me, in this the final hours, the final moments of my terrible reign.

While I cannot summon now, the world will tremble for the coming of the abyss, amid the peace and silence I will rise again, and I'll remember to write you out of the story this time.


Enjoy~