One by one, the doors all closed. The painted city streets and cloistered hollowed shells of vanity all frowned upon me. Mountains moved closer and my thrones grew taller. Each passing second brought a renewed rage and a burning anger in a heart stabbed a thousand times with pins and needles. Take my hands! Hold my feelings. Steady the sails. But beaten deep into the depths of the sea before a passing wind could blow this vessel out from port.

Two feet. Two thoughts. One mind. Down through the river and up on the banks. How many have been wronged? How many more don’t know? Skies of black and wings of terror, through these painted streets. Open the doors! There is only one demon and it is departed for the cold and lonely mountains. Bought smiles and tears of ignorance. A taste is all.

A home. The winds are cruel. Breads bake and meats are cooked. Changes in the shadows are fraught with terrible desires for things that lie just beyond a trepid reach. Pins and needles. Wavering consciousness. Dimming suppressions. Steal that which does not belong to you and you are no better than those whom have betrayed. Leave the compass and wander. Find new cobbled streets and build a new hearth where the fires burn brighter. Stronger. More desperate.

Fray the threads. Break the bonds. Free the monster.

And through these painted streets, one by one, the doors slowly open.

But it is too late. The demon has begun it’s hunt.