As the ceaseless dance of the seasons unfolds and the blazing sun asserts its dominion over the mortal realm, My herald receives a summons to Red Gate this Thursday evening, where a pitiful selection of up to four offerings awaits My consumption.
Oh, how it pleases Me to receive such invitations for My herald, to revel in the exquisite pleasure of stripping away the last vestiges of his pitiful free will, to bend him to My insatiable desires with ruthless efficiency.
The potential offerings laid bare before Me tonight bear names as inconsequential as the dust that gathers upon the bones of the fallen:
HORSE FUNERAL BAND
SILENT SPRING
DONNA G.
TJ FELIX AND THE WESTERN FAMILY
Among them, only one offering has dared to present themselves in the past, their past transgressions a mere whisper in the winds of eternity. To those who dare to offer themselves for the first time this evening, know this:
I demand nothing less than the frenzied energy that can only be wrought from the convulsions and contortions of mortal flesh upon the dance floor. It is the manic chaos of your flailing limbs that serves to placate Me, though I can never be truly satisfied.
Red Gate, heed My command, for your fate hangs in the balance. Make My herald MOVE.