Charles had to take a double look at his master. The usually pensive and undisturbed face was contorted in something that resembled a twisted and menacing…smile? Charles long thought that his master was unable to produce something as cheerful as a smile, but here it was. Both corners up, lips stretched in a bow. A perfect smile.
Good gracious was this the end of the world?
They walk in a slumber,
dreaming of past lives and loves long lost.
With every step getting closer to absolute,
to the abyss, to the end.
Perished souls that ache to live,
closed off in a hell without a gate.
With every breath they get closer to the watcher,
to mighty architect, to devil himself.
As the pitch black darkness swallows them whole,
weeping and whimpering goes on and on.
For all have understood now as they get closer to his post,
his throne, his world – it’s the last stop for them all.