Author: Ash


There is a place in cyberspace where people come in flocks. A daily pilgrimage of sorts to seek answers; a quest to be saved from themselves for they cannot do it with their own hands thus, they would go from one charlatan to the other and ask, “Please, please, O’ One-Eyed Master with the forked tongue of a serpent! Help me see for I am blind though I have eyes.” So many pompous, ignorant charlatans lying in wait for such fools; ready to fill their heads with fine words riddled with nonsense. And the flock will grovel; they will kiss the feet of the charlatans; they sing words of praises and when they leave, they take with them words with bigotry and judgment. But it is all good, for they have received verbal vomit in exchange for coins; and everyone feels fulfilled. The flock have been given the fish for the day by the fools who would play the hierophant. A transaction akin to gratification of the loins between the whore and the gentleman rogue in the shadows of an abandoned alley. Two needy individuals feeding of each other’s flesh. And where have all the prophets gone? The laughter of the Beetle King echos across the halls where the prophets gather for the feast; they are no longer needed in a place where the legions rein supreme. Leave the...

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Prophet of Art

In answer to Conformity’s grievance, the minstrel arrived and climbed upon her seat. Perched upon the top of the black rose, the Prophet of Art spoke through music; language of the gods. She sang words of comfort; water to sooth the searing fires of anger and once again, all was well… for now. Ash The beast was here all...

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… but dead silence descended upon the hall as Conformity watched the stain of zealotry slowly eating away at the once pristine walls and the room turned cold with trepidation. It was then that the first notes from the violin drifted across the room and all eyes turned to the next guest to arrive. Ash The beast was here all...

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Prophet of Conformity

Of prophets there are many but none as beloved as the Prophet of Conformity. It is to Conformity that we bow our heads, offering obedience and servitude without question. It is to her that we offer our coins and our faith; our children and our future; in this life and the next. It is because of her that we are in our best behavior and so, it is because of her that we live under the pretense that we are happy being who we are not. So that we may be loved in return. Ash The beast was here all...

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My apologies dear friend, for my earlier outburst. Sometimes, I feel like the tranquil sea and other times, I watch the storm coming in helpless dismay for I know it churns up such rage in me, I often destroy that which I love most in a fit of madness. Would it comfort you to know that while I was spitting venomous abuse at you; I was actually speaking for the Prophet of Conformity herself? She will be given a face; she will be given a name and she will spin such lies of grandeur that truly, we will gladly take the ropes offered and think it our salvation. Ash The beast was here all...

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