**COMPLETED** This is the story of Life, Death, a lonely human, and all those other names and faces that linger or are forgotten by time. It is a story of the violent and chaotic world, and the places in which, every now and then, everything is still. And it is in this stillness that the most peculiar of persons lie in silence, their stories waiting to be told, as they have for an eternity. | This all began as something simple, in the first few months of 2016. I had intended for it to be a short writing exercise, but something drew me back. Out of two pages, this sprung up. In all honesty, looking over it, it feels as if I am no longer the author. The characters control me, not the other way around. They've surprised me, created their own lives and twists without me knowing, and have completely taken over my world. In the way of format, each page was originally designed to be a chapter, as I have noticed that many tend to get lost in verbose paragraphs. These shorter chapters are meant to be easier to read, but still (hopefully) entertaining. |

"But what is Here?" Jack asks, frustrated. "I don't remember anything about.... ANYTHING. Am I alive? Did I die?? Have I lived yet?" The stranger smiles at Jack. "Does it really even matter if you don't remember? You don't have any memories. What's to miss?" *** Cold. White. Sterile. Jack is now Here, in the place where nothing seems to exist or matter. But it all matters. It does exist. And it'll take everything in him to get back to his real life- the one he can't remember.

Where's the way the shades are walking? Where's the feet that crushed the cleavestones? Are you asking What's that thunder Rolling in the caves and caverns? I am urged, yes forced to tell you Of the rivers and the grottos Of the fierce-proud jackalopes They are in the deep of cosmos Under borderworld Xibalba They are skull-flames in the darkness Lighters of the smoke and builders Of the pylons and the great roads That leads from here into hereafter By the shores of river Lethe In the mountains, near the forest Betwixt the dream cave and the danger Of the deep-steep walls of fire In the house of shades and ladies Horns of fire, ears of heart-smoke Steps held windward, will-hearts flaring Teeth to cut the ancient demons The sound of thunder all beneath us Is the stomping of their laughter Rebounding from shaman to scrivener Of the fierce-proud jackalopes Hear me sing the song of legends And the hope of the departed