In the folds of dark, where stars dwell.
Shadows thrive, life walks free.
In the back of the cupboard. Down the well.
In the old, wrinkly hollow of the crooked tree.
Minds are many, hearts are few.
Those eyes past the garden, living in dusk.
Walking nothing. An empty husk.
Until the dawn comes, envious of you.
The When is a place where mind and matter exist as separate entities of the same concoction. Its nature is odd, distant and familiar. It seeps into our world through cracks of darkness, thriving in the slithering fogs of the Unknown. There where we do not watch, the denizens of the When will visit.
The When is unearthly. All encompassing. It is most clearly witnessed by those who possess a clear conscience and those who experience extreme guilt or regret, though these people will come into contact with vastly different sides of the When.
Writings of the When documents pieces of poetry, notes and other accounts of contact with the When. It is not a scientific interpretation of the When and is instead meant to provide an insight into the variety of encounters the When provides.
Read with caution. The more familiar the When feels, the more likely you are to encounter it.
Not every being that travels from the When is friendly.
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