I called to her through the darkness and the shadow and the void and on and on, and what I got back was beyond horror. I called to my daughter, once young and free, suddenly shrouded in a blackness that extended further than sight. Things echoed back from the void.
The one thing I know, perhaps the last thing I know to be true, is that there is a very fine mist between one dimension and the next. And crossing that mist is never good. Because even a shift in the smallest detail offers magnitudes of misfortune. – “Because hard
A Mist Between Blue & Gray Read More »
