Innocence is the Forgotten - The BeginningNothingness. It was not emptiness. It was not being. No space. No quantity to occupy.Innocence is the Forgotten - The Beginning by death-in-the-orchard
And yet, awareness. And then, he was aware of himself.
Nothingness leapt ahead, striding in leagues, decades, power that became without creation. It felt, and he knew, that he was the void. He was the darkness. He saw his self, and it was alien to him.
Then pain, agony, in writhing currents from something in the self of nothing that was he. And as the self gave way, and the darkness fluttered as if torn, feeling ceased. Deadness was all, and nothing was everything and every part of his being was the world.
As though washing ashore some other realm, apart from the nothingness of his vacant self, the abyss receded from him as he lay on something stiff, something warmer than the lightless void, yet it was cold. And it hurt. And it reeked of his negated essence. But that was part of the cold, the stiffness, he himself was stiffened to the hard surface, plastered with layers and congealed globs – the
Changes in the AftermathWhat makes for a just war? A war without terrorism, without civilian deaths, intentional or as a consequence of some military action; an irrefutable just cause and supporting just causes, no unjust aims, no infliction of disproportionate harm to good, no use of weapons or tactics which cause unnecessary suffering; the war must be necessary to achieve the just cause, it must be fought by those who consented to fight in it, only the just combatants may kill enemy combatants without violating the others' rights, as just combatants alone have the legitimizing just cause… No war, then, would be just. If casualties are not permitted. Some deaths must be allowed to make the war permissible, to be justifiable, the weight of innocent deaths must be quantifiable, and room for sacrifice must be allowed. Or else, our war cannot be just.Changes in the Aftermath by death-in-the-orchard
Integra stood at the field of graves of those killed thirty years ago, when Nazi, Vatican, and Hellsing forces collided. How many the Vampire Alucard had kil
Sowing DoubtPrinted beneath the coverSowing Doubt by death-in-the-orchard
If you burn my diary to hide the truth, I will haunt you. If you burn my diary because you were an orphan like me, and if this diary is all that remains of the House of Ashtoreth, then I don't mind.
The last pages, clumped and splitting from one another in chunks. Some could not be peeled apart.
woke us up, punished us, bed wetters or not, and ordered us back into our beds. They accidentally dropped one girl out the window. She didn't die. They haven't called a doctor yet.
Smeared words. Then
They're not even trying anymore. They tie them in chairs, so all they do is stare and drool and rock themselves with the little pee pots sitting under them for most of the day. The babies who can't be tied down are put in cribs in the room without light switches, and we're the only ones who visit them. But we can't clean them and take care of them. And there's no light switch in there, and they're always screaming and they twist and rock and do things with their hands, I
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