Consciousness returned to Grignr in stygmatic pools
Yes boys and girls, his intellect was bleeding from his wrists and ankles.
as his mind gradually cleared of the cobwebs cluttering its inner recesses, yet the stygian cloud of charcoal ebony remained. An incompatible shield of blackness,
"No, no, no. This shield of blackness is for the Mac! We've got a PC!
enhanced by the bleak abscense of sound.
Grignr's muddled brain reeled from the shock of the blow he had recieved to the base of his skull. The events leading to his predicament were slow to filter back to him. He dickered
Well now, everybody in solitary confinement gets the urge to do this sooner or later...
with the notion that he was dead and had descended or sunk, however it may be,
Descended or sunk, however it may be. There's a dichotomy worthy of a good long dicker.
to the shadowed land beyond the the aperature
"At the f-stop you're usin' you'll be wantin' to keep that aperature open fer about an eighth of a second."
of the grave, but rejected this hypothesis
... as it was below the 95% threshold of statistical significance.
when his memory sifted back within his grips. This was not the land of the dead, it was something infinitely more precarious than anything the grave could offer. Death promised an infinity of peace,
"All we are saying... is give death a cha-a-ance..."
not the finite misery of an inactive life of confined torture, forever concealed from the life bearing shafts of the beloved rising sun.
Grignr's Japanese? I thought he was Ecordian!
The orb that had been before taken for granted, yet now cherished above all else. To be forever refused further glimpses of the snow capped summits of the land of his birth, never again to witness the thrill of plundering unexplored lands beyond the crest of a bleeding horizon,
I... I feel his pain.
and perhaps worst of all the denial to ever again encompass the lustful excitement of caressing the naked curves of the body of a trim yound wench.
This was indeed one of the buried chasms of Hell concealed within the inner depths of the palace's despised interior.
Yep, they keep Limbo in a closet up on the second floor.
A fearful ebony chamber devised to drive to the brinks of insanity the minds of the unfortunately condemned, through the inapt solitude of a limbo of listless dreary silence.