- Vol. 04
- Chapter 05
Hands of Goth
Every now and then, molecules of nightmare short-circuit my neuroidal tablet. A constant battle with my sewers I keep fighting and they keep taking the shapes of deads and dreads.
I did not see the hand. I did not see the eye, but I felt it slowly skinning me to my coldest depths.
The shadow is always on the prowl. The moment you swerve, it pounds like a pre-historic kill-machine to eat your velvet veils.