For none save seven returned from Castle Revolving

[Sepia]

We drive down into the darkness. We try to find our souls, we look for them the deeper we go, but the further down we go, the darker it gets and it's only alien fishes that light it up. Some local indians say that dreams are stored down there, horrible souls from another age, keeping to themselves or being caught. They say they are gods and god-killers and sun eaters. They say, one day, they will wake up and harvest mankind. They are called the Sheeda and is our evolutionary pinnacle, time travelled and Aurakles threw the spear, whose name is both Love and Vengeance through ten thousand years. Aurakles mad, seven soldiers will unravel the attack.

They might fail. The world will end. So whatcha gonna do?

Yawn? You've seen it all before. Zombipocalypse? Got a shelter in the basement and no movies have predicted a very long life-span, so three years down there just masturbating and smoking pot sounds peachy keen and you've seen to it that it will work.
Meteor from outer space? Don't worry, they'll make it, sacrifices must be made but hey, that's how it goes when the finger of god touches your brain.
Enviromental disaster? I'm not much of a hippie but we've been kinda retarded so, why the fuck not?

Pick one. You know the scenario,  you know their strengths and you know their weaknesses and it's gonna be allright. Yeah, don't worry. Relax, you've earned it because you're the TRUE hero, right? You know how you do this shit, blue-collar fucktard getting the shitty end of the stick and every day you go home and you feel like a hero, because you're the champ man. You're the champ.

The Sheeda are coming to harvest mankind, to feed upon the memetic languages and our  culture. They're gonna harvest our souls and books and yeah, you might die. Actually, you have to die to feed who we will become. You have to die for future generations, or if the Sheed wipes out enough of themselves, will they be unmade as the universe pops a spoke and we whimper out and our last memory from our collective subconsciousness is that we should've stayed up in the trees.

We are all mimes in a world were few creators touch and every day that we hear about pain we think that it won't happen to us, untill it does, like a fashion trend that looks like shit.

The dreams are down here and old demons too but we can't see what's what because of the fishes. All we see are fishes.

[B_M_W]

Fuck