Dummy

Sat, 23 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000

One night, he who I call my lover came to me as I slept, and penetrated me with a needle of exquisite length. The shock of its entry brought me awake even as my lover’s drug begun its work. Helpless, I gazed through the darkness into the face of my fate. He spoke then, in the same, soft, tender voice I had heard so many nights before:

“You know that you can’t move, don’t you? Not so as a fingertip. Even now your breath becomes shallow, the rise and fall of your chest slighter; so slight it scarcely seems you live. But you do live, don’t you?”

Store-Window on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Dummy