10/666 Country

So the party continued without them but the image they left behind simply started blending in to the background at an amazingly fast rate, the instrument panels barely registering a whisper while all the onlookers experienced something more related to an obscure H.P. Lovecraft fish fucks femme fatale under Hastings Pier scenario supposedly closed down by the nefarious Crowley Followers Crawley Chapter assuming the guise of deckchair attendants. Feelings ran high as the tide, the backlash waves lashing not just the walls of the citadel but the very heart of the beastly named 10/666 Country while the Council Of The Elders assumed total control of all throwing the democratic rulers book out of the window blown completely away the wind howling like bats on skulls the night taking over voices going unheard in the chaos of stasis and unchange.

Fully aware yet unable to move or react the ghosts hung also batlike upsidedownwards trying to see the world from another point of view in the eye of the storm still blinking under harsh lights of night as early birds washed in the scummy seafroth greenly stinking aftermath of some exotic equally wild out of control all nighter gathered their belongings for a final attempt to escape the clutches of the beach management committee members coincidentally on holiday at the seaside.