hello,
this is not anwaith.
this is not the entity called nick jones.
this is not anyone who you know by name.
this is someone who has no known name, no origin, no place in time. this is someone you know very well... this someone has no purpose in calling you but to say that there is someone you have not named who has talked to you before... i could use a name but i have not one. can you help me? i am that which is confused, unknown, hidden, vaguely hypernegledgable, one which cannot be expressed but that which dwells within. i am the dark gray quiet who rarely speaks, who is only heard in the whispers of an old forgotten man hiding in the shadows of a vaguely dreaded abandoned dwelling in the souls of men. introductions are done.
name me and perhaps i will be freed to speak the thoughts that no one dare think, for i am abuzz with knowledge and times that have never been... i cry for a name! will you give it??? this shell craves a voice...
will you free it?
please...
who.
A grey man walks the lonesome hall. Grey cloak covers grey skin. Eyes black glistening, waiting for the approach of dawn the approach of life. His mind is vastly awake, echoing the vastness of the halls. He prepares.
A thought streches through his brain. "This is my sword." It echos in the halls as if spoken.
The sword is and is as real as the thought. Its burnished blade glows lightly. A simple handle, functional, appears well used thought the blades is just formed. In a forgotten language, the inscription 'Intellect and Doubt, formed Lawless steel' runs the length of the blade.
"People are like flowers, it has been an honor walking in
your garden...." Robin Williams
Sorry, these are all the pieces I've uploaded. :(
As I upload new works you will find links to them here