Here’s the Scripting and Artwork for Hemisphere chapter 05 the Terminal 🙂 I watched this chapter recently (when i posted it) and there were a few pleasant reminders with what I put together. Anyway comments are always welcome, good and bad haha and thanks for visiting come back soon. the next Dark tower poster will be up soon aswell 🙂
chapter 05 -the TERMINAL
Two worlds, and we are just hosts to a conciousness that travels between them when we sleep? My questions were experiencing mitosis and the answers had flat lined and checked out of mother nature’s balance. The nightmares were getting worse. Yesterday I’d been stood up by the man, but in my dream I felt like I was just back at the warehouse taking to him. Now I clearly remember my nightmares, and have a box from it, I must remember everything more clearly because of this box. My life had all the pieces to the puzzle but no picture as a reference. When I studied it closer, I saw it had letters and numbers written on it. I’d seen this before, back at the heart, on a terminal. The box was a corrupt General, ordering his dark army of dead men to die over and over. Everything was leading me back, back to square one. What plagued my mind was the fact that time diluted the truth to the point where only shadows remain. Sayings where no-one knows where they came from. Chinese whispers through the ages, half truths and bent lies, natures politics. All the cliques were running, spawning and laughing in my mind. Like a crazy man that has guessed right and getting off on the fact that he could say ‘I told you so’, And I was just another pawn in this cold, sadistic, logical game of life. It took a while to get back to the warehouse, I was relying on a figment of a past memory. I stepped into the light, back into the pain. Mother nature said a shivery whisper pleading me to stay in the dark, giving me a cold sweat, she knew I understood its reality. It was my second home. I was seeing double from the drive and I was running on fumes. I hoped the terminal still worked, this place had seen better days. As the lights decayed the warehouse watched me draw closer. I’d found its epicentre, its moment of truth. The terminal looked straight back at me, worried it would offend me. Worried what I would do with the answers being the bearer of bad news, worried that I had the power to switch it off and kill its exsistance, taking everything else with it. The fear harvested responsibility, it was responsible. I was here to shoot the messenger.