The orphaned questions: number two

You are a character in a dream of mine. Together we wander the halls of a crumbling, labyrinthine mansion. In the course of our journey, we discover that we have a common desire to inflict great violence upon the fabric of our times, to distill our lives into a single act of harrowing, eloquent savagery. As we begin to plan out the operational details of a shared offense, we become separated and you find yourself alone in the attic, surrounded by old brushes and half-used cans of paint. Like all dreamers, I have a terrible memory. What can you write or draw upon the walls to recall to me our conversation and the promises made therein?

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2 Responses to “The orphaned questions: number two”

  1. skandy says:

    I’d paint a picture of a burning house, in one of the upper windows a face gazes out at the beholder. When you remember that face (ie. me) you’ll remember what to do.

  2. matilda says:

    remember stop concentrate stop operation furious morning stop preparations nearly complete stop can’t stop now stop won’t stop now stop come home stop come home stop come home