PICTURESQUE POETICS
The faces in the walls aren't screaming. What a waste.
Why is the sea so freakishly still?
Is this what your own world is like as well? How can you live in such a place?
That the V<IF WE HEAR THE NAME, IT HEARS US> should have devoured my world and overlooked such rancid serenity. This is absurd.
But that's all about to end, isn't it? It's time to dwell on cheerier matters and consider the tremendous renovation project to come. To that end, I've had an amusing idea: In gratitude for your service in facilitating my entrance into this world, I'll grant you a choice at last.
How shall I lay waste to this grotesque hamlet?
Fire, from horizon to horizon
A reorganization of the people's flesh, creating such horrors as defy your imagination.
Leave it be, restore my host's soul and leave this world forever
Empty the graves and charge the bodies to destroy the living.
A plague of living nightmares