Chapter 7: At the Borders of Nightmare

The Family Man

The Deadworld is a prison. However, people tend to misunderstand those moments when it seems to defy its most defining, vile features. Forests, by way of example, are often romanticized for their beauty; but they are merely cracked windows into those dreams from which we have been stolen, and exist as nothing more than fleeting reminders—symbols—for our freedoms lost beyond all of this dying flesh. Granted, a dark forest is one of the thinner barriers separating us from whence we came (and thus why some confuse it for the thing it imprisons), but a barrier none-the-less. Obviously the same can be said for basements filled with the moldering dead, attics containing chests stuffed with burned toys and faded photographs, forgotten graveyards steeping in twilight, mysterious holes burrowed impossibly deep into the earth, haunted houses made from Palewood trees, and all of the places where the night endures beyond the day…

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One response to “Chapter 7: At the Borders of Nightmare”

  1. Hi,
    Thanks for re-blogging this (I’m sorry, I would have thanked you earlier but I only just noticed)! We really appreciate!

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