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Monday August 27th 2012, 8:56 pmLong fingers, protruding from a dark scaly hand of roughened skin and golden jeweled ornaments reaching up to clutch a blackened human heart. Inside it beats a cold city of vile corruption, a city that seems to exist in perpetual night, where even it’s heroes have scarred meaning. The dark heart slowly thumps here, truly the only place in a mythical world of gleaming icons that could birth the twisted natures of storied men and women into fruition of the deepest crudest desires for affliction. Only here can one hellish myth grasp for control over another. The lives of broken tales. Colliding metaphors of one monstrous idea into another. Only here can birth horrors that go beyond the metaphysical reality within the folds of two covers into the real, setting forth dark energies that will live well beyond the page, possibly infecting. A light will shine on this, exposing the rooted filth of a living idea that has been twisted by one smiling wicked mind after another. What lives in us to so easily create metaphorical worlds of shadow and death?
The Story Of A Single Panel’s Hidden Soul
August 27th 2012
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