Dying Near A Glass Top Dining Table

Posted by in -Home and Furnishings

I lay there, dying in my armor. Visions of my father, mother, welcoming me to Heaven with God and his Son, the Lord. But as my sight faded, bloodied, so did the heavenly visions also fade from my mind. In their place were the inscriptions on the glass top dining table. The inscriptions, that when used helped me obtain my place of power in England, made me the king I was, am. The haunting sharp spikes in the characters, the curves and dots. They haunted me as I died, enveloped me. I could hear a endless, infinite, drum beat in the distance. The beat cantered and played louder and louder in my head, driving me mad as I lay there dying. The pipes, haunting pipes, soon after following and with it the dancing of the Old Ones, their horrible visages unspeakable as they floated in the great nuclear nothing. My last breath was made; I was given to the Blind Idiot God.