Friday, March 30, 2007

Memory Lace

"The fabric of his body had been riven irreparably, and his memory had become like a scrap of old lace--yellowed, frayed, and more gaps than threads. The tenuous, unpredictable strands of lucidity that lingered in the tangled knots of his mind only heightened the anguish of their breaking. He had been sent home with his young wife to languish in the spectre-haunted borderlands between dreams and death as the remainder of his legendary strength slowly slipped away."

Anguis, Memory like old lace


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