We do nothing but stare at the horror. We can’t unsee it, the horror. We think of nothing else: the horror. We’ll never wake up for it, the horror.
And our dreams are nightmares. Our sleep’s full of nightmares. We’re at the bottom of the world. Cursed by the world. All around us: terrible visions. Nightmares. Fumes. From the poison. From the great Corruption.
Why can’t we stop ourselves hearing the screams? Why do they reach us, the screams?
Are we holy innocents? Holy fools? Perhaps that’s it.
Why haven’t we grown out of it? Why haven’t we grown up? Why haven’t we left behind our perpetually appalled adolescence?
How did we Know? What power of Discernment did we have? How could we Tell? What gift were we given? What curse cursed us?
Something’s wrong with our intelligence. Or something’s right with our intelligence. It’s bent in the wrong direction. It’s grown wrong – or grown right.
Work in Progress 