Where the old worlds decide to call each other and chat over the phone, a relaxing afternoon with friends and enemies

I quite like the idea of different times being different beings if that makes any sense to you. So you have these phases of history where different beings were born and died. And with each death, a new being came into existence.

And then, some day, all the histories would meet over long island ice teas somewhere in the middle of a massive, massive ocean with water the colour of tears.

Ok. Where the fuck did that come from.

“Single ladies, put your hand up. All the single ladies”

Murmured the perv under his breath. Watching and staring from the shadows where he usually lived.

Fuck.

Living in the shadows. That is a pretty fucked up concept. A home, a world, a universe existing in the shadows. Just in the shadows. Disappearing and shifting and moving with every change in the sun’s rays. A silent, dark place where time slows down. Or speeds up, because it exists for such a short period of time.

Living their. All alone? Or covered with other shadows, mixing and merging and making new shapes with every move?

This is too dark ya.

.

then then what else you did.

Toodles.

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