Bright-Falls

Typewriter sitting at a desk QWERTY plain to see. It's not a matter of what he writes, but that it came to be. The keys that hack against the page from paper they become real. To save one he could never lose his own fate he must seal. The writer knew little of his own fate as he tried to change the past. The poet wrote his life for him in the dark he could never last. To save his wife and drown the dark a story he needs to write. A light thought never to exist suddenly came to sight. Out from the lake, she burst forth with a gasp her life no longer at stake. They wanted it to be a dream but they were both A. Wake.

Night pressed in all around, a heavy weight that leaned on the weaknesses of the soul. With its descent came an intimate closeness that could choke, suffocate and yet still offer sanctity in a torrid of conflicting emotions. The ancient presence of darkness that fuelled the primal fears of man lurked, filling the barren aperture of their meaningless lives with a long forgotten taste of the unknown. The Writer could feel it. Like the recesses of his innards were laden with great slithers of ice. So why then, did he defy what the Cimmerian shade offered? Only with enforced isolation and a tenebrous hold on sanity could The Writer achieve his f