This shroud of nighttime burns from the flame of my candle.   Shadows tiptoe away, the night recedes like a black ocean.   Quivering, shadow and light dance, an endless dance.

Candles possess souls that flicker against the icy winds of a wintry life.   Candles in the snow… Beneath the pale shroud…   Candles glowing in the darkness. Their breaths of heaven melt the snow   into the holy water I cross myself with.

I was wandering through a forest of skeletal trees and the misty vagueness of life when the flamelight of the candle in my hand was overmatched by the dawning sun that has illuminated a once dark world.   As if my heart's compass...

Echoes of the past scream on. This pulsation of heinous sound… sound that screeches into my ears!   Echoes of those who scream… This invisible crowd that follows me… Voices! Auditory torments!   Echoes of memory and psychosis… The two entwined like vines over a grave… Bound...