We march to our deaths
In pursuit of the ill-gotten, the ephemeral
We join the piles of thousands
In the blood-soaked valleys
Of concrete and glowing lights
All that remains of our dreams
Spent casings and gunpowder
And our fading voices
so terribly human...
I am bound to chains on my ankles, that have grown heavier with every step.
The infinite amount of sand will be my tomb, and my foolishness will be my legacy.
If there is a God, please help me.
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Stories by Shinjuku1988HS
THE ROUTE 20 MASSACRE
Since it's founding, Nobu has always ruled over Route 20 with an iron grip.
Until the night IT arrived.
I pre...
ケントレル.EXE
Shinjuku, 1988.
Police find the body of a boy, with a journal that documents a terrifying encounter with a ho...