Helpless to do anything more, he turned and slipped through the alley toward the labyrinth of the city streets beyond. He was so very tired but knew he wouldn’t sleep that night, if ever again. He stood before it a while longer, shaking in the cold, feeling his despair mounting. He waited and waited, but no answer came from behind the dark door. “Hello? Hello! Please, I need to talk to someone. His fists fell with a disheartening flatness. He stood there in the buffeting rain, frantic, uncertain of what to do. The slit in the metal door slid shut with an angry hiss.
#Helion spat cracked
Thunder cracked across the dome of the iron sky. Rain sleeted down, slapping hard on the alley’s floor.
The eyes remained unperturbed, perhaps only growing harder. “Who you lookin’ for?” The eyes watching him through the narrow slit in the metal door were uncompromising, unsympathetic, as if they were much accustomed to refusing the pleas of others. “I’m looking for someone,” Philip said through his muffling rain-suit, striving to be heard over the din of the storm. They perished in an unholy agony, and the ashes left behind were the great cloud hanging over his waking life, too.
TolkienĪ fire the size of a mountain consumed the screaming population of the dream, as it swallowed them in every dream he dreamed. – Smaug the Dragon, from The Hobbit by J.R.R.
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