“ The dasherber ran like a freigers. Horfwers stood and fuxxated. There were coitnty swredtz and koilpy brisheners all over just quopiry to the tuggerry all about the frrummlllop.”
Olphy wakes shaken. It’s the third time the voices call. The message is clear. He nervously consults the globe. Fingers find their places. Fingers fall like rain tore free from quopiry skies. Words tie as ribbons. Stanza reveal in frrummlllop.
The voices of the Freigers fluently dictate the song. Their prose raises and scythe the shammblicals from the Devanwe! To the faithy, it’s divine.
The fugue lasts for 158,537 characters. The precise number to the Pinnacles of Barratouse. The form of terrible cataclysmic event. The Epic struggle between two dark sources. It’s meant to sell. The world will see in print the message.
The higher powers were dissatisfied as it was labeled fiction. It begins…
The fear coursed through the Creators. Peasants were hostile and frustrated. Their leaders were Facist and Deception. Belief in their differences clouded judgements. Both would lead to destruction, they convince they were pursuing paradise.