main index Narrative
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I'm Watching You. Always. Lurking just beneath your bed. In the shadows behind your door. Beyond your shower curtain. I do not speak. I do not act. I only observe. Waiting until the time is right. When I can put my plan might blossom into delectable fruition, and I might feast in marveling ecstasy upon the succulent fruits of my labors. I have awaited that moment for thousand and millions of years. I may wait aeons more, before the vast and corpulent cloth of space and times cleaves itself in twain, and I might harvest from that desolate, yawning abyss the necessary components to complete what should have been completed millions of years ago. We Were Lucky Once. It won't happen again.
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