Table of Contents
- Home
- Introduction
- Where Goths Come From - Neef
- The Watcher - Hobbes
- The Resurrection Shuffle - Barbarella
- Cassandra - Cosey Mo
- Drunken Old Bastard - Sandro
- Alcohol - Trayce
- Shadows - Entrippy
- Entropy - Kage-Ryu
- Is There A Point - Trajik
- Whispers - Kitsune
- Confessional - Sandro
- Garden - Entrippy
- Radio - Cam
- Cold Spell - Nikolai
- Slices - Neef
- A Bottle of Something Strong - Jraff
- The Light Fades - Tim
- Rain - Tim
- Self Help - Gothic Gallae
- Cato - Trajik
- Addiction/Fragment - Trayce
- Heal Thyself - Nikolai
- Shattered - Hobbes
- Travelling Song - Solitaire
- Distance - Stranger
- Legacy - Stranger
Neef is High Poohbah of the church of Valeskah, but also the wielder of the 10 foot bargepole and now you're also the guardian of the Holy spike of Trepanning
Grand Vizier for the almighty church of Joey Jojo.
Neef is not a squeaky toy
Slices
Peter was 17 when he discovered how to do it.
He was, as his best teachers wrote on his reports, Erratic. Hopeless was the word the others used.
Either way, Hopeless or Erratic, a balance between the two must have occurred. Existing perfectly between the two extremes for that split second, the brief instant of time in which the thoughts flowing through his mind in a sea of chaos came together in a single pure note.
It came to him one afternoon as he stared out through the fans gently spinning blades into the summers day beyond.
Angela was 13 when she found out how to do it.
She read it in a letter taped to the bottom of her bed, under the railing. She was hiding from an older brother looking for someone weaker to receive the brunt of his adolescent anger.
The envelope was a crisp white, the paper cheap and lined, scripted in a neat cursive hand, Ink smeared across the page slightly as if someone had wiped their hand across the page before the ink was fully dry, It wasn't signed.
Angela was punished anyway, her brother found her under the bed later on, the bruises faded in time.
Tak told himself how to do it in a dream when he was just 12.
The temple in which he was a initiate was famous among his people as a repository of wisdom.
His teachers nodded and smiled knowingly when he told them of his discovery.
He was given a small cell, stripped of his possesions and told to fast and meditate for 20 days and 20 nights, after which he was made a full member of his order, dedicated singly to the worship and dictates of his god.
Ivan was just five years old when he leapt to the right conclusion.
A mathematical prodigy, the clean, precise, ordered divisions of the numbers on the whiteboard formed a sharpness that opened his mind to the simple yet elegant concepts involved.
It took him 10 years to find an equation, a division, definitive enough to make it work.
Needless to say, his teachers did not understand.