I pulled my horse to a stop, fighting back the bile rising in my throat as I did. Bighting back a scream of horror, I looked around at the scene that had scarred me so. To my left was a river so black it resembled oil. Its murky depths gave the image of Hell's tar pits, burning and boiling, bubbling up to greet those that had fallen too far. The breath of the beast wafted into my senses, the smell of rotting flesh reminding me of the hideous corpse flower. Framing the bank of the black river- water so think one could use it for ink- were two lone, barren trees with gapping holes. I was revolted to find the grotesque forms of what- if there had been plenty of moonlight- resembled bodies, souls trapped in this hellish grave as they reached up towards the heavens, screaming for the peace that the angels above thought they did not deserve. The sight was that of wretched, foul beauty that painted the forsaken space with such sublime grace I felt like gagging once more. But the image that captivated me the most was that one, solitary building on the far shore of the holiest white imaginable. It was this ethereal, foreboding figure that stood proud among the specter like terrain as if in resentment. Despite the warm night, I could feel a chill run down my spine and my blood run cold as I gazed upon this mausoleum like structure. My horse was growing anxious, fidgeting as she waited to leave, but still my gaze was held by that haunting building as I watched the thieving figure steal the last shred of my sanity without ever changing.
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The wheel of time always turns.... and so do I.....
"Don't be such a Sourwolf."
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Gospel_of_Winchester
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"Don't be such a Sourwolf."
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