The Dark Verse

Do you hear what I hear?

Excerpt:

The sound of a heartbeat is distinct. It is a ticking of time—a lifeline encroaching upon an end. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, this ever-sustaining frequency pulsates towards the boundaries of the unknown. It represents knowledge—whether of reality or sleep it does not matter—but when it stops, the mystery begins. That mystery, which hinges on the brink of death, depicts the apex of existence. What I was, what I am, and what I will be are all erased by the ceasing of this simple cadence. But even now as I breathe, that mystery reveals itself from time to time. It suffocates the noises that surround me and blocks out the impacts and interactions of the world. It takes the beat of a heart, the sound of silence itself, and steals it away. And when silence is gone, something else has replaced it.

The warm crackling of the fire was enough to keep me content for a long while on the most still and cold of winter evenings. I had my wife in my arms and my two girls snuggled at my feet. My thoughts danced with the harpy-like flames while their sounds caressed my imagination. No one spoke, and no one wanted to. The tongues of light satisfied every gaze, licking upon the air with infinite delight and heat.

As I stared at the fire over time, my senses began to numb. Surrounding interferences drifted away from my attention, and even the sound of the flames themselves began to slowly evaporate from my ears. I looked at my wife and then at my two children—they were all in the same stupor. Eventually, that which was real became very surreal and faded into the sights of my thoughts.

 26: The Something Beyond Silence [15:57m]: Download

Come one, come all.

Excerpt:

There were many sitting around the table in the dining room at Neverlaster’s Inn. All together, there was the blind man, the ruler, the temptress, the demon, the thief, the philosopher, the jester, the card man, the hunter, the seer, the warlord, the ghost, and the masked mute. They were all dressed at their finest and they all came with their deepest imaginings.

The temperature in the inn, which was perfectly stagnant, cradled a humidity that left a thick contingency of air. The breath of it was harsh and a slight perspiration was common among the gathering. A cryptic, black chandelier hung low over the table with dozens of wax-dripping candles. Affixed to the outer walls was a handful more of candles in their dark, antique holders. The lights’ entire opaque glow reflected upon the red of the room—the wallpaper and the carpet—creating a visual hum of red haze. The ceiling was unique; it was pure black ornamented in gold foliage that danced like flames in very unusual patterns. And to blend with all of those things visual, creaking rejoiced throughout the crevices of the place, whether under foot, touch, or some other means.

This was a meeting of the faces of iniquity. They had joined together to discuss the fate of evil, its direction and its movement, on a hallowed eve, at the strangest of locations, and bound within the dreariest of physical manifestations. Very rarely did these meetings occur, but even more rare were the amount of those who attended. It was truly a unique occasion.

 25: Character Feast [18:05m]: Download