*random writing snippets based around a nascent idea forming in my meatbrain*
She lives in the pitted surface of reality where no man nor beast strays, singing softly of the lies your Father told you. You catch the lilt of her voice while reading deep in the night, and strain to listen even amongst the sacred silence of the library. Treading softly you follow sibilant whispers and half-heard phrases in the dark, opening the passage into the Inner Garden, Luna a coy smile in the night sky
The cool kiss of her copper fingers unzip his flesh and gently encircle his still-beating heart.
...the smooth marble walls sweat in the dimness and the patter of feet echo through the maze....
The foggy street lit by guttering torches echoes with the staccato of cloven hooves. They speak no words, these processional figures with heavy masks of fur and bone laying shaggy and sour on their heads. Behind them comes a white bull stained frothy pink, draped in gored victims like some hellish holiday wreath, their distended viscera painting abstract symbols on the cobblestone. You feel the eyes of your neighbors
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