thetrebio

He looked outside from his desk. Rain was coming down in sheets, covering the rubble and trash outside in a watery cloak. He sighed, and turned back to his desk. The candle on the upper right corner was dimming quickly. Another sigh. He blew the candle out and went to his bed. His work could wait. He lay down and closed his eyes, yet sleep eluded him. The heavy drumming of the rain on his shoddy tin roof kept him awake. His eyes moved towards his window once again. Another day, more rain, another day, more rain… He whispered to himself. Is it day, though? Or is it night? He did not know. The days and nights had been meshed together by

In a land of long, long ago, Where cattle grazed and people hoed, There lived the beast called Goro His dark and vile form, Covered in bloody, spiny horns Oozed death and pestilence His face was a mass of darkness With hollow, soulless eyes And an eternal smile upon it He ravaged the land and peoples, Destroying all their crops and steeples, Impartial to neither man nor beast Years and years passed by With Goro still on the fly And peace was never known Goro then decided one day To put claim to all that lay, For his deathly dominion He flew to the king’s high tower And proclaimed to all the hour Of their untimely demise The king

The dim, white lights of his cell flashed on, and the man in the white coat walked in. “Good morning, 602” As he finished speaking, he flashed a toothy grin. 602 did not respond, staring blankly at the floor. “You know 602, you are one of the lucky ones. They think you are what They need to finish Their project. The last little piece of Their giant “puzzle”. 602 glared at the man in the white coat, grimacing. “I know what you want from me, just like what you wanted from the others…” 602 dropped his gaze back the ground. The man in the white coat, still grinning, continued. “Now, now 6

 Pain. Pain was his world. Pain was all he knew. No other sensation came to him. His life was perpetual agony. Yet he found solace, comfort even, in the pain. That devastating, yet calming, pain, that pain which seized his whole being, that pain which thrashed him about, leaving him beaten and broken. The pain came and went, arriving without warning, leaving in a similar fashion. He did not question the pain. It had become his only reason for life, the anticipation of it giving him purpose. In his lonely life, the pain had become his only friend, his only constant, his only comfort. A long while had passed since the pain had come around to v