WEST WALLS WALTZ
BEYOND THE NORTH WALL
ABOUT JIM HILTON
page 1 - MATURE READERS -18
I am no ordinary madman.
Oh no, I'm a very special kind of maniac you see.
I am one of the blessed few who can converse with the great old ones.
Not just the weak willed dieties of Christianity or Islam, but the elder things that ruled the cosmos before man spread its germ across the plateau.
They tell me who to punish, who must be sacrificed for the greater good of the eternal universe.
The old ones whisper to me inside my head. Whisper, teach, instruct, whisper,whisper.
I smile a sercret smile, knowing that the common infadel are not privvy to the godspeak.
They know nothing of which the Chitauri stealth lords would command.
The great old ones use the Chitauri as messengers. Unseen unless they wish it, they seep into this world as drifting shadows -pools of consciousness bereft of emotion.
They are terrible and magnificent!
The messengers come to me as a whisper, like a spiders web in my mind.
Then come the visions!
They guide me to the chosen ones. The offerings.
With this blood I worship thee....
With this rendered flesh I worship thee...
Each vision is different. But the beginning is always the same...
The sea of blood and dismembered sacrifices everwhere I turn.
The sky itself, a dripping crimson canopy.
The land around me, a mass of ripped and tortured bodies, the sea - a swirl of lost souls.
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