Kryptex
Prolific Writer

France, Paris
21:00


A rusted sign bearing the words 'Trespassers will be prosecuted' swung on a hinge as the high breeze swept through the city of Paris. Harvey turned and tipped his hat toward the empty courtyard. "By whom I wonder?", He pondered, as he waltzed through the iron clad turnstile and smiled to himself. Adorned in a hand-tailored silky white suit, he looked like a self-made billionaire. Which was perfect, as Lord General Michael Harvey, was one of

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I lay calmly, talking to myself, urging myself to go through with the task I had been designated to, and yet I still asked myself, why me? Watching the blood flow from one of your loved ones, changes you, obliterates the old you and sews the new you back together, all jumbled up. Beautiful Days, turned into Nightmares, The sun turned into a pitch black hole in the sky, asking me, begging me to let it engulf me. The melodious silence, ringing in one ear, yet stillness in the other. The dank atmosphere

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