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Rushing, Fetid Waters of the Years
Tomes of Amaxathroth > Ink, Blood and Parchment |
Change! You rare and lettered scribe, slave to a king or slave to your heart, clutching at this tome of blood and parchment that will bring misery to so many; yes, Amaxathroth the Wanderer has seen change. Change fit to burst a man asunder, or a woman to weep herself empty from hollowed eyes. The fetid waters of the ages rush yet in their hurry to be past my sight, filling my waterskin over and again with stench and poison. You are but a fly, your few years but a passing glimpse of a vast extent of rot and truth.
This, the Demon-King gave to me as his curse, and knowing full well I sought as much - such games are played by the maggots that consume this world, and so do those who believe they can chart the rivers that flow within the hearts of men. A bitter comfort this might be for those sorcerors who live yet, flensed and tortured for an aeon in return for granting passage from the stars. Men and women shudder and soil themselves, scream and flee in terror before demons set upon the world by the Undergods - but it is those spawn who should blind and consume themselves in what passes for a demon's fear, lest they learn that which they will never understand.
A demon may twist itself into a grotesque semblance of a man, may scrape nerves as twine from the living and form itself a heart for thinking, may torment and leer and rend the flesh of all about - but it cannot shape, cannot conceive, cannot understand the simple cruelty that is a man. Change, my companion, is a guiding, enclosing wall built of ruined hearts; hearts stabbed by women, hearts crushed by men, more inventive in their treachery than any dripping horror hatched from the burrows beneath the mountains. Long ages gone is the Black Palace, and I, Amaxathroth, am become the Demon-King's witness, from this time of dripping ink to the very end of this world.
Rare, lettered scholar, you slave of slaves, read not further the words of Amaxathroth! Be content with your place, your knowledge and your death, of however great a suffering and anguish it might be. Swim amongst the lesser fishes, and delve not into the dark depths where terrible beasts lurk, barnacled, pale and ancient.
[ Posted by Reason on December 9, 2006 ]
