she was the daughter of a businessman. he was the son of the devil. she was only eleven. he was four hundred twenty-three. she was a human. he was a vampire. |
she was the daughter of a businessman. he was the son of the devil. she was only eleven. he was four hundred twenty-three. she was a human. he was a vampire. |


softly we drift into sleep,There are three ancient years without extraordinary significance in history. They all held wars, deaths, births, invasions: the everyday life of Medieval Europe. But what could they possibly have in common?softly we drift into sleep,
1476: the year marked the end of a long cruel reign of one of the most famous tyrants in history. After forty-five years residing on this Earth, many of which were spent as a soldier, leader, prince, Count Vlad Dracul the Third has finally been killed. The Impaler is no more.
1552: one of the presumed dates of the birth of the notorious Jack Ward, who, after two weeks in the Royal Navy, deserted and began a life o


a little girl and a monster,This room was no place for a person to live, let alone a child. It was the size of a storage closet that hadnt been cleaned in this century, with a reinforced door that was little more than a slab of metal. The floor looked like it had once been hardwood, and perhaps the walls had wallpaper and wainscoting from an era long pastbut the floor was blanketed with dust and trekked-in dirt, and the cheerful yellow paper on the walls was torn and ripped. The delighted colourthat of the sunwas melancholy and shivering under the light touch of cobwebs.a little girl and a monster,
It belonged to an old house of similar style, in a city she did


apokalupsis eschatonA bone-chilling oceanic wind howled in from the west, sending a brief shiver over the old ruins of the city. The girl turned her face toward the breeze, letting it wash over her dusty hair and temporarily soothe her twisted soul. Her breathing was heavy and raspy in her ears as she watched a pillar of smoke change direction in the distance because of the new wind pattern. The ghosts of the newly dead and the suffering were almost visible in the blackened plume.apokalupsis eschaton
Vancouver was still burning.
The city was once glorious. The girl supposed one could still refer to it as such, but only a sadist could appreciate the facelif
Vancouver, British Columbia. The hypocenter of a nuclear attack. History repeats itself - think back to Little Boy and Fat Man, Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It is apokalupsis eschaton: the end of the world. |
| 26%
24%
15%
15%
12%
6%
3%
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