"... the world liquefies, and is washed away in the rain. Let it go, let it fall. Let it turn to sweet and rotten stink and sink into the earth. Let maggots come to feast upon this collapsed and festering pile. They, in their ignominy, consume our leavings. Our foul and fetid ordure put to noble purpose. May their terrible majesty strike us down and let us fall before them.
Maggots of another world, greater than the titans of our own. We offer up the institutions of our world. Come and feed upon our financial districts, our police stations and prisons. Gnaw our great houses away to nothing. Politicians' mouths gone slack and empty, mealy words no more than food for worms. Root great heads into our mints and counting houses and our indispensable banks. Raise them to show us blackened blood and bile running from your jawless face. It all was rotten anyway.
Come and dwell in the gangrenous seethe of our wounds. Scrape the world clean again..."
I will not tell you if that is from Shroud or not. It might be. But maybe I just made it up for you. Best if you don't know for sure.
YOU ARE READING
Bone Pattern
ФэнтезиCalix Bishop has become comfortable treading the border between her daylight world of Walmart, banks, and rent payments and the darker world she has found of woven magic, artists and hidden knowledge. But when she stumbles upon a particular cache o...
