The boy traced through the valley of silk

The gentle breeze, the slow rush of the rivers

The smiling travellers passing the ground which he hobbled on,

all like acid to his lungs

His delicate face corrupted by blisters and deformities,

Masked by a cloak as black as the space between stars

His bare feet twisted and red gripped onto each stone step

Small pale hands held on to the cloak as he carried on

Until he came to the village

Obscured by mountains and mist

Now nothing more than a crypt

An alcove for perverse incantation

The remains of the elder sat on the steps lamenting what he had done

And the boy kneeled in his presence,

his dry throat begging the remains

'The people of my land hate me, they see me as the devil'

The boy took from his satchel a sack of disembodied eyes

He placed them on the elder's withered bones

'They have nothing new left, no discoveries to make. Give them a purpose'

The bones of the elder disintegrated and from his particles something else emerged

A translucent cube spinning in place with a divine light, rotating on its axis

The boy reached his hands into the creation, his thoughts and its actions began to intertwine

He closed his eyes and imagined his perfect world - a world where he was treated as everyone else

It was too late before he knew what his thoughts had truly meant

Its mouth unhinged itself in terror and agony, his skin began to burn

A million rats spewed forth and devoured the child

They moved through the silk valley to the four corners of the Earth, carrying their epidemic wherever they went

The Kings, The Mothers, and The Beggars fell to decay and agony

And to think they ever knew anything else