contrastvision

 My master sends crows like me off to deliver messages. This has always been my job. I call. I speak my call. Yet across this gloomy city, no one listens. No matter my height in the sky, nor the branch that I sit on, these people move along without giving my call a second notice. I carry one message to deliver. Upon delivery, my mission is completed. Yet my message can only be understood by one person. The one individual of which it belongs to. Where could this person be? Are they hiding? Are they just shy? The message does seem pretty important. I mean, it is the final testament of a dead man. Therefore, my master wishes to give the message

A figure of darkness A figure of emptiness His eyes black as coal A contract in one hand A pen in another Do I make a deal with him? My life for the other?

As i walked across this black and white plain, kings and queens argued among another. Their violent voices echoed through the plain vigorously, creating a sense of dread unprecedented. What most interested me is that both sides of the plain had parallel plans, overlapping yet varied in structure. Their grunts began to move, all one by one. As if some greater force commanded them in turns. These grunts were barricades, yet still had great significance to their superiors.