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    MICHAEL ALLEN

    projectionist

    Nobody leaves through the front door unless he can beat the obstacles.  If the statues move, are they still statues.  

    Somebody is trying to kill Nolan Void.  

    It's only in his mind.

    But the obsticles are real, though they aren't what they seem.  With doubts that sting like spears - stabbed by insecurity - Nolan lifted the hot cauldron from the coals.  The tattoos on his arms are scars.

    Pills of molten copper and iron and weeds sprouting from his ears...

     

    The monkey is rude and a theif.  He thinks he's a God.  What others call vandalism, he calls art.  He's not a God.  He's an ape.

    ... Riding a tiger ...

    Leading it, controlling it, and giving it freedom...

     

    The tiger will do what it wants - the monkey's not a God.

     

    So the monkey will KILL THE TIGER and wear it's hyde as a cloak.  This monkey makes streams flow uphill.  He controls the rain.  He's a threat, not a God.

     

    There is a way to control this wicked monkey.  There's a vice around his head.  

     

    It squeezes and squeezes his skull.

    The vice will tame the beast.

    His eyes bulge out, his face turns all blue.

     

    If his head were an egg it would burst.

     

    Then, silence.

     

    He isn't who he is...

     

    The screen bursts into a million tiny blocks.  Toy blocks...  All around his head.

     

     

     

     

    THIS SITE IS A WORK IN PROGRESS.  THE BOOK WILL CONTINUE, BASED ON DEMAND.  CONTACT ME IF YOU WISH TO CONTINUE READING.  GET THE BOOK.