IMP

"Why'd you do that, Moe?"

       His thoughts were as though they were augured by a prophet. He let his rage sink into the abyss of his consciousness. He wanted to make apt meaning of what was happening at that moment. He couldn't be sure what he had heard or seen. His patience was being pored by curiosity and that should never be a mill around his neck. His wills were whooshing as his veil was unveiled. His marks trailed tracks on the consciousness of his being. He was just as heavy as the weightiest mountain ever grown. His pain would subside but he needed his rage to be soothed. He had no idea what pain he was referring to. He hadn't thought he was in any pain. He wasn't savoring any gaunt gores. Except from the claws of the annoying but comely creature he had met few hours ago. He tried concentrating and making meaning of quite the numbers of ambiguous things before him. He mated with rage and span. Time was no longer seasoned to him. He did need a better option. He wouldn't stick to that forever. He needed what he could relate too. And with. He let his instinct serve him a bowl of reasoning. He allowed his bounty brain to whisper to his eyes.

    That was his father's voice. Of course he did know what his contention was. He had always revered and feared him of his offsprings. He did have no idea why and wouldn't or didn't ask. He didn't allow his instinct to inflect his stance. He was a pull of a rage. He did commend the rage of his acumen. Twas really trying to make meaning of the insanity. He had never experienced whatever was it that was happening to him in that part of the world

possible twas for him to be in the underworld at that moment. Few hours ago had he taken the creature to his hood. The remaining part of the story was blur. Yet remained the question, how was he brought there? He did have quite the numbers of questions also. Like who brought him there, by whose permission. He was hoping keenly that twouldnt be by his father's permission was he brought there. If twas, he probably would fight him. Why would he do that without his consent? He didn't give a damn about whoever a creature he thought himself to be. All he did care for was all he could do and how he could get them done. That was his contention and of course he would prune. But there was no time for nursing quite the nosy throttling of thoughts. The bottle of his composure had been broken and he had no excuse but to fill his fits. If he did want answers, he would ask his father. But would he answer a question with another question? A part of him didn't want to provide any answer to his question.

 He took into consideration where they were at that moment. They were at the rear of the palace in the underworld. The palace did have two doors. Only two doors. Twas said that the gods wanted it thus. One door would be for the gods only and the other for the humans. But if treason did arise, many would be killed before they would escape, for they would queue to leave the castle. Well, the recent treason was quite a stray. None of the Vilkens, the good men died, only the evil family did. They did have no idea what happened. But twas conspicuous that the gods intervened. If not the gods, who would had kindled tongues of felon flames in the throne hall and which didn't burn any other thing but the evil family. Even their tails were not lit when the tongue of fire did taste them. Even behind that building were they. He had no idea what he was doing there. His father's look was burnished in worries. He