TAKE NOTICE OF WHISPERS THROUGH WALLS...
Ecstasy on a tongue, incised and tattooed sigils waver and flash across flabby cheeks. There is no safety from worlds just out of phase. Hounds rumble, and leather wings flap, creatures and angels patiently await the curiosity of men, the lust of men for answers and openings. Worlds will collide, blurred will become focused, doors will become phased, and monsters will be real. Books may be old, but the pages are scattered, dim views of chants and spell time. There is a rustling behind the wall, there is a patient tapping at the door - "let me in and I'll give you wonder, let me in and we will be like lovers". Enticements are made as fractions, like segments of a torn and tattered gown. If you believe, then movements become lifetimes, and lifetimes become stars, or the moon in phases non-ending. And if you believe, then moments become darkness, and lifetimes become the torture chamber of the stars, and the moon crashes and sparkles into the ocean. So take notice of whispers through walls, the lick of the tongue of promises. Open the book and speak the names of deliverance, all the names of creatures and angels, and open the world.
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