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Date Posted: 05:47:58 06/20/02 Thu
Author: ^Escapade^
Author Host/IP: ch-asc1-p12.taconic.net / 205.231.28.12
Subject: ...a resurection...

As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.
Gradually time awakens and moves sluggishly onward. Dusk falls upon the terrain, like a curtain closing upon the final act of a performance. The sun leaves the valley and goes climbing up the slopes of the distant mountains. Amongst the mottled sycamores a brackish pool resides. In it's murky shallows a water snake glides, twisting it's periscope head from side to side. From each compass direction a far rush of wind sounds and a gust drives through the tops of the trees like a wave. Dry, brown leaves scuddle a few feet and row on row of tiny wind waves flow upon the pool's green surface. As quickly as it had come, the wind dies and the clearing is once again quiet.
Attention is again drawn to the crafty serpent resident in the water. Green and red patterned tail darts vhemently bringing the demonic creature to the shore of the bog. It carries itself instinctually, weaving through the boardering reeds. It's scaly body than leads into the shadowy abyss of the forest realm.
Curiosity is a natural flaw that causes much demise. A nagging fear impends one's heart as an evil presence is felt yet the sparkling physique of the snake cannot be cast from mind. Instead of fleeing, as it might have been wise, you proceed warily in the cardinal that the hypnotic serpent had departed in.
You have now entered the valley of the shadow of death.
The surroundings mutate into a claustraphobic black. The black stretches on with no finite end, as ageless as time. The only contrast to the ebon is an occasional bolt of crimson light, striking quick and acutly, ascending from the depths of hell.
It's natural to be afraid of the dark but in this parallel universe it is the light that should be feared. In the moments that the lucid scarlet beams light the dominion, a demon can be sighted. The cadaverous knave sneers at you, a tresspasser in her acclaimed ward. Worthy of more than your breath, the devil's incarnate retains a gellid stance. Knowing that your curiosity has brought you into great peril you wish that the rogue would strike soon, brining upon you your unavoidable annihilation. She is to intelligent for this course of action however. Crenulated hooves pummel the taiga, and nostrils dialate allowing a stream of smoke to curl into the lithosphere, twisting and struggling like translucent banshees at war with one another. Taught haunches dip and propell massive creature forth, neck protracted and jaw gaping to reveal numerous rows of blood stained molars, frame flattens and lowers creating an equid battering ram.
You retreat blindly from this thret. You run untill blackness no longer envelopes you and the familiarities of every day once again comfort you. Your heavy breathing subsides and heart beat resorts to it's normal pace of palpatation. Safety. Or is it? Realization strikes that It let you escape. A glance is given to the forested canopy from which you just burst from. Your eyes begin to dart nerviously to each corner of the periphery. It is here. It will never cease to haunt you. Anticipation of death is now the paradox that has become your life. It will wait. It will strike again.

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