"How long we have waited for pleasantry's embrace, the fingers ever pointing to a distant tower, a castle atop which the flag waves, a slowly moving reminder of the impossibility of this circumstance, a wholesome charade at a party's last teem. For it is assuredly worth this wait, a patient toil among the scavengers, the daily bread stale yet they forever grateful and regarding such scrap as reward, they say it, farewell." ¹
With such determination we cling to the cleanliness of the floors beneath, themselves standing only to offer a footing with which we employ to reach the institution, itself standing before us with a ubiquitous stare, glaring down upon as as we make our way towards its imposing stance. Now at once we are found ascending terror's stricken staircase, the loom weaving a solace into its mesh and continuing the grasp of take and claiming all for the interior, leaving little with which to cling and ourselves finding nary a hair to comb into the mire, instead falling backwards into the deception unfolding below.
"Seemingly transparent, this order, though ubiquitous throughout, it is faulted in its omnipresence and disregarded contagiously. It is the performance of disease which dances upon the stage, so happily it infects and corrosively contaminates, spreading lovelies and mirth, a welcome visitor to this sterile abode." ²
For eleven days we have been imposed, each morning bringing with it the continuance of thievery, and this twilight descends with us having traveled but a hundred paces forward and an equidistance in reverse, the backwards plot unfolding with a scrupulous attention to every depression and detail, a deceitful design spread out like the map which misleads, fourteen days of Havens-haw happenstance, all carefully plucked for the ferment, the pungent restriction distinguished and frail, the forehead damp with the sweats of this seemingly unending toil.
It has been predetermined and permitted, punctuated and pondered, the error laid unseen before a most hateful audience. To take pause and then deny, to-morrow's beckoned affair ignored and forever grateful.
"The Bed," said one; "The Draftsman," two; "The Harrow," suspected the third.
¹ & ² Discovered amongst discarded paperwork, possibly published previously, though seemingly pertinent and purposed. 'Circumstance' mentioned as well as others, stamped 52.76.214r and filed. June of Eighteen.