The Last of them.


“What do you see?”
“The void. There is nothing there. I am afraid the emptiness has consumed him. I’m sorry.”

The high priestess looked away. She was a strong woman. She had to be, ten thousand looked up to her. The last ten thousand.

She gazed into the space. It has been sixty haze years since her brother was thrust into the void along with 12 others. A final attempt to save a dying race. The chose thirteen were shot out into the stars in a last attempt to salvage their species. A failed attempt.

She turned around and grasped the oracle’s hand, not too gently. “Look again old mother. Look one last time, I beg you. He’s out there. His essence calls to mine. One last time!”
The old oracle sighed heavily. She was tired. And old. Too old. Her own essence was running thin. “Alright child. One last time.”

She gazed off again and her eyes turned glassy again. She started into space foir a good ten minutes. And then she grabbed the high priestess’s hand. “I see him!”

The priestess gasped and barely choked back a cry. The old mother continued “He is in his chamber. His essence is strong. He will live child! His path is straight now. He heads towards life.”

Still not able to contain her joy the high priestess asked softly, “How far away from his destination?”

“Eight hundred thousand void years. He will reckon the emptiness of the void even though he sleeps. I am afraid he sees everything in his dreams.”

“Eight hundred thousand…I cannot fathom it.”

The old mother looked up now, her eyes the usual thunder blue again. “But there is hope. And hope is all we need.”

Yes…hope, thought the high priestess of the final ten thousand of the old race as she turned to gaze into the stars and the space from the floating chamber, just below the atmosphere. Hope.



SoulKill Theory

Do you know the difference between being alone and being lonely?
Everybody wants to be alone from time to time, but nobody ever wants to be lonely.

He’d switched his phone off an hour ago. Rum and coke, cigarettes, a spliff and himself. Two hours later, head in the toilet, vomiting his soul out, he did not notice the watch go by 12:00. Happy birthday.

I saw a man cry in the rain at 2 in the morning on an empty street. I was on the balcony of a friend’s apartment and just staring out into the splatter when i saw him, he walked steady. The last guy i saw was drunk and that was 20 minutes ago, he was pretty fucked up. But this guy was sober. He stopped and held the lamppost, and then i saw him clutch at his chest like it hurt. Heart attack? Then he was shaking, and then he turned his face my way and i saw it. The sorrow, the sadness, the pain. He must have been there for 2-3 minutes. I did not take my eyes off him. His shaking eventually ceased and he was just standing there, drenched, face down. And he lifted his face up to the sky, the rain beating down on and he sighed. I remember thinking that must have felt good, the sigh. And he looked around as if to see if someone was watching. He never saw me and he probably thinks no one saw him. But i did. I saw him that night.

Something very depressing about begging nothing in particular to stop doing or being nothing in particular to ease your pain. Please what? Who are you talking to? What do you want? But nothing. Just “please”.

Across The Plains Of Gorgoroth

A sickness lay across the plateau,
the air foul with the fumes from the mountain,
Life so long ago no memory exists of it,
a shadow creeps across the heart of those who walk the plains,
bringing rumor of fell beasts in the sky,

An eye burns in the distance,
tireless it searches,
sight reaching beyond the fortress of barad-dur,
and as far as the black gate.

Past the dark lands of Isenmouthe,
beyond the toxic waters of NĂºrn,
lies the land of the fallen,
where only evil hearts tread,
of creatures only darker then the sky itself.

Stepping out of your door is serious business,
for one path leads to every other
and some paths better be left alone
so wanderer be weary,
lest thy walk into the plains of gorgoroth.