Welcome to the...
It is half past the hour...
the moon risen bright and distant,
and your heart is wide awake...
you hear a whisper,
in the wind that creeps through your window...
the way the trees sway,
and the night creatures chatter...
you hear them speak.
'We have become haunted by the twilight...
through the memories,
that hold us tight...
we wander the midnight halls,
of the prison we have created for ourselves....
for we can't let them in,
we can't let them in...
but alas,
we had forgotten...
that they got in long ago,
distorting our minds...
and making us divided,
we dream of him...
of a person,
a man...
again and again that we seek,
he appears like a flash in the distance...
amidst our dreams,
and dying within our nightmares...
until we loose grasp,
of the thin line...
between our reality,
and what isn't...
what shouldn't occur,
and when it's mere occurrence is madness....
what is left,
but to feel our mind cave in?
To...
harbour the jester demons,
that seek...
to eat away the light,
and oh boy is it dark now...
only a splinter of true light remains,
and more and more we find comfort...
with the cold creatures,
that consort with us...
and haunt our ways.'
The voices pass away from you...
and you feel a call within your bones,
you rise from your bed...
your thoughts stilling in your head,
and you creep your way...
pressing your fingertips,
against the cold walls...
you make your way to the windowpane.
You see a tattered cloth...
held in place by a black string,
tied to the lock upon your windowsill...
you grasp it tight,
feel its' coarse cloth...
and glimpse words upon there.
'Dear reader you are invited...
to a most maddening of Festival nights,
to spin the wheel between fantasy...
and reality,
we require only your presence...
and the most garish of grins and sights.
A most splendid night awaits...
if you attend,
your instructions are as follows...
Climb out your window...
Search out the silver lamp,
and drown yourself within the hue...
kiss the lamp once,
beside its' spout...
and whisper your mortal fear.
All shall follow as should.
Regards...
The Sinister Meeting Room
and
Their Associates...
The Carnival of Madness.'
You climb your way beyond your window...
and steal beyond your garden,
your coat wrapped tight about you...
you are drawn on,
by an irresistible call...
until you reach a grey street,
drenched with just-gone rain...
yet the water rages,
it swirls in patterns...
from within it,
rises...
a lamp of silver.
You do as you were bid...
kiss the lamp,
and utter thy mortal fear...
of a sudden,
a door opens in the grey wet before you...
and you walk down.
Into echoing darkness...
and different lights,
Strange half-times...
of sleepy dragons,
that weave lazy tunes through the darkness...
and stars weaved,
into something you can wear...
and possess.
For we are made from stars...
by ninety percent a part,
and that is what attracts us to each other...
that viciously beautiful starlight,
that exists within each of us.
At first there is just darkness...
and hiddenness,
around you...
and then you see,
stretching before you...
a grand sea,
lit up by lanterns...
that pattern a forest,
beside the sea shore...
a single rope swing,
cradles the stars...
in their luminescent arcticness.
You move through the forest...
until you reach a curving stretch of beach,
you see a thousand wrecks...
boats and trains and planes,
joined together by strings and ladders...
and lit by a thousand matches,
peculiar laughter...
lights the air about the shambles,
and the feast that rages...
with laughter and stamping,
upon tables bones and floor...
and you are soon drawn in,
enveloped by intoxicating smells...
seized by the wrists,
and pulled into the party...
by creatures with leering humble faces,
and upside-down smiles...
and hidden souls.
A drink is pressed into your hand...
and you feel it swirling you away,
lighting up your senses...
each figure reaches their hands for you,
an embrace...
a brief waltz,
the toast of a cup...
a kiss upon the hand,
a soft remark...
and you realize that they know you,
they all have known you...
and you are among your own,
for you are one of the strange...
and one of the ones trapped,
within the labyrinth...
but in time,
you realize...
that there are joys within the labyrinth too.
You see a figure smile at you...
beyond the faded lights,
You near close to the figure...
and they lean down,
from their great colourful light to you...
and whisper words.
'You must take your own victory now...
there is not always a helping hand,
when the darkness claws...
and the ghosts beat away at your doors.
When your memories rent you in half...
or your past or present hangs like chains,
But you musn't lose hope...
for we have long ago discovered the solution,
until we reach the place...
where the madness ends,
where the railways run past forgotten beaches...
and pale-haired creatures,
sew on their own wings...
where the city rests,
until then...
we take upon ourselves the masks,
and the diversions...
and we learn,
to scream with laughter...
and play the game right back to them,
dodge the wildfire...
and dream our illegal dreams.
So dream on eternal-young dreamer.'
You dwell for an eternity or two...
with those of the festival,
their maddening delights...
their fatal intoxications,
and the way we all slip down between the cracks...
beyond their cold eyes,
until we rest...
in the silence and music.
Eventually the world sways away...
and you feel the embrace,
of a thousand familiar creatures...
hold you within their deadened warmth,
and then let you go...
and yet you know within your bones and heart,
that you will meet once again.
You find yourself back within your bed...
and the world lightening,
into gold about you...
you sink back amongst your sheets,
and drift away,
within your world.
Hello there,
My mind is in the deep sleep and a new demon is plaguing my mind. The sea is reaching high about my shoulders.
Much Love and 2.37 AM kisses,
Miss CLScarlett xx
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