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The Treasure Room

From the Well of Fortune On the Island Impass. The Treasure Room lies bloodied and burgeon. Its vine-draped walls derelict, bold, and crass. Its gold beckoning to the soul’s desire. Shimmering by daylight, through the cracks of the room’s steely husk. The ground is dusted by the bones of the past, by those within Hell’s…
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A Midnight Train Through Charles Town

From the night, treks the flash and the fury Solitary is the heart—Silence is a stranger in the dark. And the rains dampen the midnight train. A booming crackle and a resounding quiet, eerie. Wavering through the storm, rolls the whistling train. Powered by its resolute spark. Bookish and nostalgic is the world out among…
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Words

Words are only as powerful as those who wield them. Empty paper are only shackles if we think them so. Because words are the backbone of imagination. The suture of mayhem. Because empty paper is daunting to nothing but our inner author; the victim of a greater blow. Empty paper is a menacing foe. Its…
