| Author | Message | ||
| M
Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4493 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Who Laughs Last Denis Garrison In the arid sun-bleached wasteland of the bleak and famished east beyond the pathless wadi where the ancient vipers come to die, out where no vultures dare to fly, far past the dessicated dunes, there looms the first and most beloved shrine of dread Osiris. In post-apocalyptic gloom, beneath the scarlet writhing skies where vacant silence long prevailed, thunder, like titan laughter, booms. The dust of bones coating the temple of the monarch of the graves flies out and up in frantic whirlwinds lusting desperately for rain. From his long-neglected throne Osiris stares into the crippled west where cataclysm glows in lethal storm clouds, red and black. From stony lips, a sudden crack across the visage of the king and, all the while, at the corners of his adamantine eyes, rock wrinkles in a hint of sacred smile. |
