Survivors Log #29
[Redacted] days after WHIPPOORWILL
"Their gods were cardboard cut-out glamours. False teeth shone like mirrored lenses, reflecting the ambivalence pouring from their holes. Barbed wire wreaths bedecked in fingernail ornaments, and coins of currencies long forgotten hung on string wound tight and soaked in the grease of a thousand tiny hands perpetually knitting. These bond servants sat in mobs behind the [REDACTED], amputated legs replaced by boards of steel and grocery cart wheels. The squeaking cacophony that followed the terrible king was met in opposition and canceled out only by the silence that surrounded the cozy maritime manses and manors, where fitfully slumbered peaceful denizens. I am witness. I am the last. I write these words even as I realize the totality of the [REDACTED]'s...I cannot call it power, for with the faintest twitch of gristle wrapped stick-like hands, all flesh concedes its memory.
It is not that they- those that are called by [REDACTED] the [REDACTED] are truly outsiders - they have always been here.
They will always be here."