Cliff Hanger

Up a flight of stairs. Not in pitch darkness, as they are lit, dimly. Gangrik’s apparently is fair sized, with a hallway kitchen, a balcony, a single bedroom and living room. The living room at first glance seems like any normal apartment living room furnished in the 90s, complete with low central table, a couch, a few chairs and a desk, with papers stacked around a desk top computer, as if the misshapen piles created privacy. But then we look down and suddenly we are in a house of an occult, where sacrifices are surely made. The carpet, stained brown, has drawings on it, in crayon. Drawings of circles, shapes, crosses and a large Angel in the middle, hands reaching out, as if asking to be dragged from the drawing itself.Gangrik asks if we’d like some tea and knowing it is impolite and potentially life threatening to not accept such a generous offer..we accept. Tonight, no more cliff hangers.


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About mrmakdeck

I see tomorrow. I am biking to the end of the road, not to say I did it, but to see what's really there. From my travels I've learned that barriers are just lines on a map that once you get your passport stamped and your visas all in order don't exist anymore. It's okay to say I don't know and not know and learn something and forget it. It's great to go towards the unknown to make it known, or see if it retains its anonymity even as you come closer. I've met some amazing people and done some pretty cool things and have realized this spherical concoction of land and sea is only as unattainably big as you imagine it to be. So wake up and pedal each mile.

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