Tales of the Dreaming

"Walk any path in Destiny's garden, and you will be forced to choose, not once but many times. The paths fork and divide with each step you take through Destiny's garden, you make a choice; and every choice determines future paths. However, at the end of a lifetime of walking you might look back, and see only one path stretching out behind you; or look ahead, and see only darkness. Sometimes you dream about the paths of destiny, and speculate to no purpose. Dream about the paths you took and the paths you didn't take. The paths diverge and branch and reconnect, some say not even Destiny himself truly knows where any way will take you, where each twist and turn will lead. But even if Destiny could tell you, he will not. Destiny holds his secrets. The Garden of Destiny. You would know it if you saw it. After all, you will wander it until you die. Or beyond. For the paths are long, and even in death there is no ending to them." - Seasons of Mist -----------

Sanity is a fragile thing. A little egg with a frail shell in the eye of a storm made by all feelings that we go through, and as soon as it gets thrown around it will break and shatter to never again be restored. The only way to keep it intact is to protect it, to reign in the typhoon, and store it in little boxes. Each thought has it's box, ones as little as grains of sand, other so big that they block the horizon. Some fit perfectly and just lay there, waiting to be used while others are violent, always trying to get out. Those are the most troublesome, all the things that I don't want to feel, but what I want is irrelevant and they break free from time to time. It's never easy to control them again. Those are the ones under lock and key, and normally the key gets thrown out, with the hopes that this lock will remain closed forever, that whatever is locked inside will just wither and die with time. Unfortunately, they rarely do. But this is something that I nee

Murder. Massacre. Decimation. Holocaust. Genocide. Throughout the ages, Mankind has created those and more, words to describe their own demise. And yet, we have no word for de obliteration of the ones responsible. We do have Deicide, but this only describes the downfall of one such being. Maybe this makes sense, after all, I was not here before. Reality is broken, shattered beyond repair. We need to start over and try again, but before the responsibles have to pay their due. As I start this nameless task a name comes to mind. Phancide. I will go with it until I find a better name. My rage is unleashed on a single purpose. Death and destruction follow. My brethren, who should be beside me, instead, stand in my way or hide like cowards. It takes a lifetime to finally get to the first ones. The Gods. Since the dawn of time that they have hindered and halted our growth, whispering in our ears that we are right while the others are wrong. My kind, Mankind, has listened and fo