A Whisper on the Horizon

I sit anxious in the observatory, the black hole noise playing. I murmur along to the sound of particles torn apart on an event horizon.

A mad drumbeat. A thin monotonous whine. A whispered name above the colleagues I’ve murdered.

“Azathoth, Azathoth…”

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.

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