Technosquid Eats Parliament
At the sound of a howl at the nightway door, the trees quiver and shed leaves 'til forming a mass of fallen flotsam to be carried in the wind, down the path of this dark brood of a place. The nightway door stands in silence, an arch stone still among the rage of the shadows. Even the snow dressing the floor is black littered shrapnel, glittering, drunkenly playing with moonlight's glow.
Heaved howls are coming from the trees surrounding this nightway door, who bow to the strong gusts, letting off snaps and creaks from deep within their skin, clawing branches at this solitary doorway on the path. Their roots undulate as waves in the gloomy earth, diving and protruding, diving and protruding, with withered tips inching at the nightway door.
Such an incomparible rage making its way through this open door, a sharp and gaping mouth lying open, bellowing out its mysteries, wilting the grass and drying out the fungi with its shrouded breath. And no one has come close to its looming stature above the tops of trees; forboding with its crown of stormy clouds. A shiver periodically passes through the midst.
And out flows a night tide from the nightway door, stars tumbling through the thick, against the ground, sparkbursts with fiery chirps lighting up the shadowcast, just before spiralling up into the sky. Shaved bones lie still around the arch, rolling with the wind and piling up at the end of the path, the entrance to the dark, where one small and spindly tattered red flag stands to warn.
QUESTION OF THE DAY: Have you realized yet that the platypus is one of the greatest creatures alive?
Heaved howls are coming from the trees surrounding this nightway door, who bow to the strong gusts, letting off snaps and creaks from deep within their skin, clawing branches at this solitary doorway on the path. Their roots undulate as waves in the gloomy earth, diving and protruding, diving and protruding, with withered tips inching at the nightway door.
Such an incomparible rage making its way through this open door, a sharp and gaping mouth lying open, bellowing out its mysteries, wilting the grass and drying out the fungi with its shrouded breath. And no one has come close to its looming stature above the tops of trees; forboding with its crown of stormy clouds. A shiver periodically passes through the midst.
And out flows a night tide from the nightway door, stars tumbling through the thick, against the ground, sparkbursts with fiery chirps lighting up the shadowcast, just before spiralling up into the sky. Shaved bones lie still around the arch, rolling with the wind and piling up at the end of the path, the entrance to the dark, where one small and spindly tattered red flag stands to warn.
QUESTION OF THE DAY: Have you realized yet that the platypus is one of the greatest creatures alive?