Entry tags:
side: heaven
[ When you next open your eyes, you find yourself standing in a hallway of stained glass windows; the door behind you closes completely shut before disappearing, you in a corridor that leads to nowhere. You're stranded, here . . . wherever you are . . . ?
The light that reflects through the glass is a gentle one, and the whole place seems to glow, almost binding in illumination - it's been recently swept here, or otherwise recently polished so everything isn't so musty; still, there's a distinct feeling of heaviness in the air. One could almost mistake the feeling for reverence.
There's only one direction: forward, into the light. ]
The light that reflects through the glass is a gentle one, and the whole place seems to glow, almost binding in illumination - it's been recently swept here, or otherwise recently polished so everything isn't so musty; still, there's a distinct feeling of heaviness in the air. One could almost mistake the feeling for reverence.
There's only one direction: forward, into the light. ]
Re: RIGHT HAND OF THE FATHER
[ why did you bring these people to my house ]
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[ laser beam stare @ absinthe ]
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Re: RIGHT HAND OF THE FATHER
Why would people make fun?
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. . .
But it's a problem if someone else has that book. It was given to me, and it's precious to me.
Re: RIGHT HAND OF THE FATHER
[pauses]
...You might wanna keep your stuff more under wraps, or move it. Seems like you got people looking for at least something around here, and your diary might be the least of the troubles.