Literature
Somnus
He isn’t sure where he is. How he got here. Or why he’s here- except maybe the echo of one word rattling around somewhere in his skull. Purify.
The world is a strange, unfriendly white, paved with yellow. He’s confused, disoriented, but in a sense, relieved. This is much better than his room still- probably now painted red. Such a messy weapon, he thinks, as he turns the bat over and over in his hands, rolling it from right to left.
Drip… drip…
This world, save for the lapping of the water against the walkway, is completely silent. Not even the slightest whisper of the wind. He couldn’t help but feel