𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍, 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄. tiled floors crack and give way, walls peeling like stripped skin. the visitor isn’t innocent, has already been haunted by a force far older than he, and yet, has been summoned to walk these streets ----- alone, trapped, left only with that of his own mind as company.
the apostle does not see these visions as they’re meant to be seen, only as they are. a small boy hurries by, giggling quietly. footfalls disturb a nearby puddle and send a smattering of droplets onto the sidewalk.
he watches with muted curiosity as the boy ducks into one of the decrepit hotels. a flash of yellow, and he’s gone. somewhere, a siren blares, and a small, accusatory voice seems to carry with each wail --
𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩. 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩. 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙪𝙡𝙩.
@dysquiet