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He couldn't sleep. He awoke with a rather alarming start in a cold sweat and shakes. The faceless shadows,the screaming and laughing that only he hears torment him. The fear and anger that reside inside his chest weigh him down. Both his burden and his curse. A terrible weight he doesn't understand why he carries.

He took a swig of the whiskey as he tapped out another cigarette. "It keeps the voices quiet." he murmured to himself as he took a deep drag on it,the soft warmth encircling his body. "Stuffing a dragon down the hole" he heard once from a loved one. "Digging you grave" said another. "These voices,who are they?" he wondered. He watched the fire,as if some answer were to appear out of it. The embers would crack and spark apart as if trying to convey a message beyond his understanding.

He sat in silence taking in everything as he turned his gaze to the skies above him. Such a beautiful scene he thought. If only he could touch such beauty. His ears picked up various sounds,from insects to the occasional coyote howl. He enjoyed this,but could not shake the feeling that something was out of place,something lost.






I'm well aware the stuff is floating. I haven't gotten around to installing Feng Sui yet. I'll be sure to do that soon.ish. Also,the white light is from a small lantern I have set in front of my tent,just so I don't yknow,accidentally fall off the cliff into my death(I use the new Dry Canyon mod for my home now)