Time is short now, I sense them drawing close. Whilst blood still flows through these shaking hands, I will tell you of them, in the hope that someone hears these words and knows of what is to inevitably come.
I know not how to stop the Dark Horde, or how to stop the events I have set into motion. But I doubt it makes any difference… Mankind is doomed anyway.
It wasn't always like this. Once I enjoyed a happy life too… Once I had a life.
My early childhood to the outsider seemed like any other: a child full of energy, confidence and wonder. Then, when I was only seven, came the visions.
They were infrequent at first, like intermittent thunder before the storm. By the time I was eight they were coming to me not only every night, but every hour of every waking day. Every child fears the dark, but who's to believe that a child's nightmares could possibly be real?
Mother: “Henry, your father and I are really worried about you lately. You seem so upset. What's wrong?”
Henry: “It's the nightmares again… I can't stop them and I know they're real!”
Mother: “Oh Henry, my poor little boy! It's all in your mind. It's your imagination. They're just bad dreams, can't you see that? They can't hurt you, they're not real.”
Henry: “But it's not in all my mind! I don't know where the dreams come from!”
Mother: “Henry!”
Henry: “They talk in a strange language and tell me what's gunna happen!”
Mother: “Henry! I've had enough of this nonsense! I'm taking you to the doctor. This has got to stop!”
Henry: “It isn't like any other dream! You don't understand!”
Mother: “Henry!”
Henry: “You don't understand! Every day and night I hear them! I see them! I smell them! They won't leave!”Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
