As I said, it was a dream, of dark, dripping stone, of a fractured voice whose vowels were impenetrable...
06 January 2012
Dreaming, not dead
Water spilled on a rock turns into a dire premonition: a thing of tentacles, dark pulpy mass at their head, slithering down into our waking life...
As I said, it was a dream, of dark, dripping stone, of a fractured voice whose vowels were impenetrable...
As I said, it was a dream, of dark, dripping stone, of a fractured voice whose vowels were impenetrable...
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1 comments:
its kind a scary when you dream about it.
the walking dead comic
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