by Barnaby Fell

When the sun came down on me this afternoon it came in colors of brightness to blind and, as always, with questions designed to burn -

"Do you admit that you are a liar?"
"I am a liar."
"Do you know that you are a thief?"
"I am a liar and a thief."
"Where, then, is your home?"
"I've none, but I belong to the fires of the setting sun and to the depths of the Walpurgis Night's Dream."

"And when you wake from the dream to find your limbs in bloody disorder, and when you see that your only company is the burning heat reminding you of the many long days which have passed, will you then carry yourself for miles to stain the sand with your blood in search of other dreams; other dreams of darkness and emptiness?"

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