As I write this, the last hour of October is already half gone. I can feel the ominous chill foretelling the midnight dawn of November. Soon, the insanity will wake before I even lay to rest. For the next month I will reside in a dark place, a place governed solely by words. Scribbled on the walls, the floors, the tables, everywhere.
For those who haven’t gathered yet, I’m talking about NaNoWriMo! Yes, it is thither that I will reside for the next month. If by some strange happenstance I appear here, rest assured that it will be in the form of some irrecognizable monstrosity. But as my last vestiges of sanity abandon me, I’ll wish good luck to my comrades-at-arms, some of whom are already lost in the Novembrance, Ishana, Thaumaturgist, and Ralph/Emitar. Good luck, friends, and safe passage! But now the sands tick away, and the darkness calls to me. Down, downward I fly. Down, downward I fall.