Talk:An Unsigned Message/@comment-72.234.25.205-20130830230209

At the Copper Door

It has a rich reddish sheen: touch your tongue to it and no doubt it would taste of blood. But have you come this far to rashly lick the Bazaar? No, no you haven't. Slip the paper beneath. Turn your back. Sleep and in the morning await the infusion of alien strength, like a rush of harsh whiskey.