and excruciating genocide were, how wonderful it would be if all the myriad fragile realities were to shatter like so much glass and all the souls therein were to fall into its waiting arms, so they could flail about in the void forever, their lonely voices crying out in a despair sweeter than the freshest honey, so those who loved such things could drink and drink and be content forevermore.
Her mind was nothing but a miniscule speck, smaller than a germ, compared to this conglomeration, this entity of pain and malevolence so vast that all of reality could easily fit in its mouth. This thing which listened to the screams of those who were burning and buried alive for relaxation, and bathed in rivers of sour tears and babies blood. And that thing stared at her with three eyes, each the size of a large universe, and intoned, "HE IS MINE."
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Feb 1, 14 · +0 · Like · Report