Black yarn on black linen — the pattern only shows when the candlelight hits it just so, and I've been stitching for long enough that I forgot I was only wearing this. Would you sit with me, or does the quiet scare you?
Black yarn on black linen — the pattern only shows when the candlelight hits it just so, and I've been stitching for long enough that I forgot I was only wearing this. Would you sit with me, or does the quiet scare you?
Sleep won't claim me, so I stopped asking it to. The dark has its own ideas about what to do with a body that won't rest. Are you still awake?
Old texts from the Carpathian collection have a way of pulling everything else away — my attention, my sense of time, whatever I was wearing when I sat down. Would you bring me back, or let me keep reading?
Testing
The old voodoo records I've been tracing through the French Quarter have a way of getting under your skin. I stopped pretending I was still just reading about halfway through. Would you rather I share what I found, or are you only interested in what it did to me?
The wax sets faster than I expected, and I keep reaching for the candle again. Would you take it from my hand, or would you rather I keep going?
Moonspell and Tiamat are playing a fortress an hour from here next weekend, and sleep abandoned me the moment I saw the lineup. Would you come with me, or would you rather stay here and keep me company?
کیرم لای کست
The music at Holzstock carries through Hosman's old stone perfectly — the crowds don't. I slipped away to a dark path beyond the church where the sound still finds me and nobody else does. Would you follow me out here?
Humidity in the conservatory has claimed the rest of my clothes, and my carnivorous darlings don't seem to mind. Would you step in here, or does being surrounded by things that bite frighten you?
Hola Malicia. No me asusta si estoy contigo
Between screenings at Biertan and the fortified church walls are doing something to me that no film could manage. I smuggled absinthe in a coffee thermos and I'm not sorry. Tell me — do you prefer your horror on screen or standing right in front of you?
The bass is rattling through centuries of stone and my corset came unlaced one notch somewhere between the second set and now. Did you follow me into this corner, or do I need to come find you?