things are remembered differently
@JohnMcArts @folk_horror @psychcomm @Scarfolk @markopilkington If anyone is running a racket to obtain the hands of hanged murderers for the repurposing into magical tools, I am sure Amazon is in on it.
If anyone is running a racket to obtain the hands of hanged murderers for the repurposing into magical tools, I am sure Amazon is in on it.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
@kayorchison @thevitalspark01 As if that isnÛªt a persistent and ongoing issue.
As if that isn’t a persistent and ongoing issue.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
@kayorchison @thevitalspark01 Most of my visits to hospital were emergency. Memories of lying on wheeled beds being rushed through corridors, a landscape of lights and tiles above me.
Most of my visits to hospital were emergency. Memories of lying on wheeled beds being rushed through corridors, a landscape of lights and tiles above me.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
@kayorchison @thevitalspark01 Weeks spent in oxygen tents. Acclimated to my own world, my own atmosphere. Visits happening every other day if lucky. Night hours becoming hollow, a territory of wheezing machines and distant screams.
Weeks spent in oxygen tents. Acclimated to my own world, my own atmosphere. Visits happening every other day if lucky. Night hours becoming hollow, a territory of wheezing machines and distant screams.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
@DRDVDRAE I disagree. It is merely that the broken and the ruined are better at seeing them.
I disagree. It is merely that the broken and the ruined are better at seeing them.
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
ThereÛªs old, persistent belief in Hookland, that when time erodes name from gravestone, the dead below may roam. https://t.co/ZaQCqoDSB2
There’s old, persistent belief in Hookland, that when time erodes name from gravestone, the dead below may roam. pic.twitter.com/ZaQCqoDSB2
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
In WightÛªs Wood, old gods dance with the dawn mist to songs we struggle to hear. https://t.co/vBYhLOQD7a
In Wight’s Wood, old gods dance with the dawn mist to songs we struggle to hear. pic.twitter.com/vBYhLOQD7a
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
@EustonDoYouCopy @paul4july @HEXCELERATOR @Actinane @duncanbloor @yardfish @leahmoore @66000mph https://t.co/aC1RzqzSRf
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
The sentinels of ancient churches come in many forms. Yews, grims, a circle of stumps frozen in procession. https://t.co/9d2wgxVnGL
The sentinels of ancient churches come in many forms. Yews, grims, a circle of stumps frozen in procession. pic.twitter.com/9d2wgxVnGL
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) November 4, 2018
The concrete haunted landscape listens out for rumours of the next war. https://t.co/VAZfzeO1Nq
The concrete haunted landscape listens out for rumours of the next war. pic.twitter.com/VAZfzeO1Nq
— Hookland (@HooklandGuide) October 3, 2018