Call Him Monster

" If we are a genetic mistake, then my dear brother, you are a genetic wasteland where change goes to die."

Doldrums

My wrist has a rhythm, a gentle but persistent pulse as the injured nerve endings cry out in unison. Terror fills the veins, the blood, the severed tissue. Layer by layer as the wispy fibers that allow your skin to be an ironclad wall begin to quiver. Trembling, the echo of stell gnashes and gnarls... Continue Reading →

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