“Deep down there, in the deep, what did they find? What could make them sleep? On what do they feed, and what is seen by their endless eyes?”
“Stop!”
“The tales they tell of what they have is not one for the foolish—only the dead.”
“No, please. This is going to hurt us. You are wrong.”
“In the brine, they say, it comes out only during the day, while the others only the moonlight will they play. They hunger, not because of a need, but a beautiful desire to bleed, bleed, bleed.”
“Lincoln, please stop this. If you allow this to continue, you really will bring down these things. I… I can hear them coming, and they will take us. Rip us to pieces.”
“Cutting the flesh is easy to do—we claim a legend, but one does not need to believe too strongly in this to have a stake in their rising. The treasures on their backs are enough to give greed such an eruption.”
“The ground is shaking Lincoln, do you not understand that? The ground is shaking! This is not a joke, not a thing you should ever do. Mom, dad, they told us not to, and this is…this is what they warned us about! Lincoln, do you want to die? Do you want me to die? Can I not trust you?”
“Oh, here they come, here they dance! The lovers of the brine, they will come to collect the dreams of the sleeping, and the souls of the awake. They are all so much, I cannot begin to say—can’t you see! This is you and me, we can begin now and take the world. Like these behemoths, like the ones in the stories.”
“Lincoln, this is not… how could you think I would want this? This is the end of the world you are talking about here! This is the end of life as we know it. Do you understand? If you die, if this world dies, then there is nothing: humanity is done.”
“Oh, to think of humanity as important—I envy your ability to do such a thing, to even try to justify us existing as a species. The creatures were here before the world was fresh, do you understand how long they have been existing? The core of the planet, when it formed, was only ten minutes, a year perhaps, before they walked. They did not dawdle, they are the owner of the planet, this world—and let’s work with them. Let’s have a hand in the world’s fall. Let’s take our rightful place in history, as the enders of the world. What did dad die for if not for this? If not for us, his spawn, to go and rip apart everything—just reduce it all to rubble, and slag, and joyous explosions of death…”
“I said to stop.”
“…Wait, brother, what are you doing? Back away from me with that knife…!”
“Lincoln, I must tell you, that if the world is going to end, then you and I are dying before that happens—it’s what Dad would really want.”
“How dare you! How dare you, you little worm in the face of the joyous fires of—”
“Oh, lord…oh…mercy, please shine down on this fresh hell.”
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Coolerbs Writes 