It was in a place not so much darker than the place prior to. This of which I speak was by some to be terrible, to others it was immoral, but to most, it was unheard of, but to me, it was a place of absolute tranquility. In the first few seconds it was more, or less like a crawl space in the back of my mind It soon became more like a phantom, or fog. Then to a curtain of darkness, as though it was held over my face. This it then became a place, what place? Hysteria Horrifico.
Now, I was in a place I wanted to be, where the crows grow, where the trees get their knees, known by one and none. This was indeed the kind of place where men of all sorts would fall into a coma of bliss, adoration, and ecstasy, to a point of complete solidification in the quickly drying cement that was isolation.
It was a tastefully queer place, though humble. Much like a true crawl space really. With corners, and walls of every decadently, desirable, deviation. This crawl space, if you will, worked a lot like a parade. A parade in the sense of what I knew to be a parade, with patterns, and movement, and plans, all packed into some being in order to be forgotten later. Although this parade was not the variation of what I knew, but without single movement forgotten, flawless in all. The Robes in their robing, the crows in their growing crowing, the trees and their knees. Every notion I enjoyed multiplied its degree, by adding a new and more beautiful part each time. As if I had my own personal orchestra, waiting to strike up whatever single, silvery joy I had into a symphony fit for the divine.
I soon realized that these enactments, were a display delivered directly from the harsh world I had been trying to escape, despite the multitudes of soul singing wonder provided by the dear Horrifico. Through time…or out of time, these “soul singings” became more of sips, and the soul quality had been replaced with that of a somber one. I refused to sit by and watch this wonder stoop to the level of my past oppressor(which by the way, was the first bit of anything I had done presently besides watching “the lights” and all).
I knew in my heart of hearts that this figment, this wonderful place of blessed humble wonders could by far outmatch the now drab land that I once presided in. I knew this place of infinitely rolling terrors, could be brought down, and built up to surpass any other. If my simple comments on the parade that already was could create such a magnitude, than an original idea could be almost unimaginable.
I would first need a basis, a canvas to create on. Something that would guide the way, like candlelight in a dark room. “And so it was”, boomed in my head, and seem to have hit a wall in the back of the crawl space, with a loud “thud“. A light then appeared, glorious, yet obviously suggestive. The “ball” I needed to start rolling in my head had started, and truly was a ball.
The nature of this world now was clear, a world of many orbs, contained within many other complexities. Of course I realized a world of floating spheres was not so impressive, much like an ornament gallery. What did it need to make it glorious, to make it glitter so? All seemed as though it was still, among this vast place, in the exact moment I decided I had no answer, a holy sound hit me as the answer was provided. These orbs which bounced in the beautiful space had returned the favor of me creating them, by them creating something for me. These celestial balls were to act as islands that contained ongoing structures of tangible land, which spanned across the sweet Horrific.
“Mice in mazes”, trying to find something of value to them. Specimens to act upon these islands, set in motion by the shear need to survive. An infinite display of encaged, entranced creatures. To forever entertain the likes of others, and my creations. A truly enjoyable gallery of ornaments.
