Welcome to the Playground where you'll find original works and horror reviews
"The first breath and all that follow, tainted by it; original trauma echoing throughout our every thought, our every heartbeat, blossoming into more profound pain, until breath and thought both cease..."
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SOMEWHERE BETWEEN HIGH HEAVEN AND LOW HELL
Born in blood . . . the first breath and all that follow, tainted by original trauma, echoing throughout every thought, every heartbeat; blossoming into moreprofound pain, until breath and thought both cease . . .
What we grow accustomed to...what we can endure:
The days bleed into one another, as we do; hurt defining every moment.
No more. Now, all instants are one; pulsing brilliant, ecstasy and agony, rendered down;
experienced in a heartbeat.
Every shame. Every sorrow. Humanity, history. This is what we are; the God we gave birth to. Better? Yes. Yes. Now, we all suffer the same; no more division; no privilege or powerlessness. We are the same; sexless, skinless, ex sanguine.
And we celebrate, content in our disgrace.
Buy Volume 1 HERE or HERE
Buy Volume 2 HERE or HERE
Born in blood . . . the first breath and all that follow, tainted by original trauma, echoing throughout every thought, every heartbeat; blossoming into moreprofound pain, until breath and thought both cease . . .
What we grow accustomed to...what we can endure:
The days bleed into one another, as we do; hurt defining every moment.
No more. Now, all instants are one; pulsing brilliant, ecstasy and agony, rendered down;
experienced in a heartbeat.
Every shame. Every sorrow. Humanity, history. This is what we are; the God we gave birth to. Better? Yes. Yes. Now, we all suffer the same; no more division; no privilege or powerlessness. We are the same; sexless, skinless, ex sanguine.
And we celebrate, content in our disgrace.
Buy Volume 1 HERE or HERE
Buy Volume 2 HERE or HERE
A vile waking. There are places we walk; cold and dusk-lit; places where the wind whispers, carrying echoes of forgotten games.
There are places where we are naked; where the grass and weeds rasp across bleeding wounds, exposed nerves, their dew glistening red. Places where the silence cannot be broken, its insect chatter fraying thought, fracturing sanity.
These are the Strange Playgrounds; places where we meet our murdered or abandoned selves, and join their desperate games.
Come and play awhile.
Buy the book HERE.
Some horrors remind us of what what we are. Some make us what we fear we'll become.
But some, those rare few, provide fleeting glimpses of what we might yet be.
These are the Essential Atrocities, however much we might deny, however much we might cleave to the comforting and familiar. They rip us open, expose us, flay us more naked than we've ever been, and show us the ecstasy that comes with being deprived of all we assume.
Open yourselves, let them in, let them remake you, and allow yourself to laugh amongst the muck of all you once were.
Buy the book HERE.