Echoes

A new dawn comes forth
the Halkost grows evermore
closer to the throne.

Through streets of concrete
and fields of milk and honey,
our crops will be sewn.

The towers of man
stitched with their entrails, screaming
monuments bemoan.

Twisted arm and arm,
leg and leg, the koljatmertä
made a spire of throe.

A mist of urine,
blood, and feces cascading down
on the ones below.

This jagged garden
of ever growing bile and bone,
is all they will know.

The rivers of gore,
running forth from our bounty,
paradise beckons.

Brought forth by our hands,
the shepherds of our new world,
the cleansed born again.

In each new city
a reincarnation of flesh,
our unending reign.

One after the next,
a kingdom of eternal
carnage will remain.

Those who do not bend
we will surely break, and
of them wipe the slate.

The Jailor's lap dogs
will try and stem the tides, but
they will not abate.

Your false saviors judged,
decreed by the Ozi̮rmok,
thirteen coffins wait.

For now just a dream,
echoes of Kalmaktama.


Unsatisfied, Haru Akimoto grunts in frustration as he rubs his eyes. The thin film that formed in the corners whipped away by his boney fingers. Putting down the pen and pad, he sits up, stretches, and slicks back his hair.

Sliding off the sofa, Akimoto groggily walks to the table and pours a glass of crimson liquid. Taking in a deep breath of the fragrant opaque beverage, he guzzles it, stopping only to dab his chin of missed droplets. He wiggles his toes through the thick curly hair of his carpet as he stretches again.

Yawning, Akimoto makes his way to the window clad in beige curtains. His fingers run along the all too familiar texture before stopping and tracing them along a uniquely shaped birthmark that went previously unnoticed. Akimoto pulls open the curtains, the sunlight cutting through the stale air in streams of swirling dust. As he lazily gazes upon the city he lets out a sigh.

"Someday."

Stepping away from the window Akimoto stops to look up at the clock, its boney appendages reading six fifteen. "I guess I should be going." It is Akimoto's first day back to work and tedious labor of what's to come weighs heavy on his shoulders. Falling in to the motion of routine, Akimoto gets dressed. Once finished he stops I front of then mirror and straightens his tie.

Muffled screams can be heard as Akimoto walks past the giggling door in his hallway, stopping only steps away. "Forgot my damn phone." He walks past his reluctant guest's room and back into his own, grabs his phone, and once again prepares to leave. As he walks through the door he grabs the heavy black satchel leaning next to the door. "Definitely gonna need this."

His home is only two block away from his job, the walk is brisk as Akimoto is lost in thought. He knows what he must do is a necessary for "grand plan" but it wears on him nonetheless. He stops in front of a rectangular brick building and sighs. "I am a shepherd, their flesh and minds are my flock." His attempt at self-motivation doing little to quell his nerves.

Using the back entrance, Akimoto makes his way through the least-traveled hallways in an attempt to reach his goal unnoticed. As he steps to the chosen door, screams, cries, whispers, and shouts– a general cacophony of noise can be heard on the other side. He braces, clearing his mind of thought as he grips the handle. He quickly snaps the door open and briskly walks through,

"Welcome to 5th grade kids! I'm Dr. Akimoto and I'm gonna teacher this year!"