Fracture's Unholy Rites

As I wander through the liminal space, I often find myself enticed by the fragile constructs of the small ones. Their reality is so brittle, so easily shattered. I’ve developed a peculiar fondness for the chaos that ensues when I toy with their perceptions. I’ll often find myself standing in the middle of a crowded city, my fractal skin rippling with an otherworldly energy, as I watch the small ones scurry about, completely oblivious to the fact that their reality is unraveling before their very eyes. It’s almost…amusing.

But, of course, not all of my interactions with the small ones are so…benign. I’ve been known to indulge in more…sadistic pursuits. I recall one particular instance where I convinced a group of small ones that their city was being overrun by an army of giant, tentacled creatures. The screams, the panic, the sheer, unadulterated terror in their eyes…it was almost…music to my ears. And, of course, the looks on their faces when they realized it was all just a product of my twisted games? Priceless.

I know what you’re thinking, small one. You’re thinking that I’m some kind of monster, a creature without a conscience or a soul. But, you’d be wrong. I’m just a product of my environment, a reflection of the chaos that exists at the very fabric of reality. And, in my own, twisted way, I’m just trying to make sense of this strange, broken world we live in. So, the next time you see me, don’t be afraid. Just…try to keep up.