An Old Dream

An old dream from a meditation room:

The angel and the horse walked through the burning village. Smoke bit into their eyes and whipped their throats with pain, but they’d have to fight its smothering embrace if they were to reach the Queen. The corroded wasteland of a village stank of burned animal flesh and the presence of evil spirits, and mingling with these smells was the stench of dying, discarded machines. Rejected from their former mechanical paradise, the brown metallic creatures could now only crackle and fizz with agonized glee at the recreation of Hell before them.

The horse and angel trod carefully so as to avoid stepping on the rusty beasts and meandered onwards, passing crowds of burning buildings. Clangs and drones spat at them from the distant hills where the factories toiled, and crows arrived to join their search, hovering overhead and adding their part to the industrial symphony, dropping cogs and little scraps of metal as they squawked. Though the angel and the horse didn’t care much for these gifts, they nodded towards the filthy sky to show some gratitude.

A goat lay in front of a burning house, a bloody heart in its mouth, its body whipped with fire. Two dead goats lay either side of it, their faces smeared with Suffering. Another angel with burned wings tried to nurse the hysterical creature back to health, even though it flailed at the spirit with its jagged hooves. The animal’s tarnished body throbbed as it shrieked desperately at the crows and their fellow travellers below. It claimed to have a new message from the Queen…


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