In evil's realm, thoughts are the news that the days read about. Books are the heartbeats of printed skeletons. Time travel through the times inside the dead lines to explore the crypt of the nightmare's mind. The blind spots of the timelines are the documented darknesses from the crypt. The connection has many destinations but one fate. It is the stories ghosts and silenced evidences that are scraped in the ink. The silence at the end of a timeline is not the nightmare. The reflection that opens the mind's portal haunts through your screams point of view. I tell the reaping from the open grave's black hole's screams of the horrors between the stories dust and universe's ashes.