No one knows of my insidious plan, my spectral machinations, my eldritch scheme. It's quite simple, really. The caverns of despair that run like honeycombs, like a labyrinth, beneath this city on a hill whose light was sadly hidden are full of songs which tell stories of travellers losing themselves in foreign lands trying desperately to cling to the hope that one day they might sleep in a soft bed beside their true loves.

So one day, after a wonderful dinner, you and I will share a glass or two of wine spiced with those somber tunes and I will see a single tear in your eye and I will know that you are mine.

Between now and then, we are both free. After that moment, we wont exist anymore.

Reading
Wishing
Plotting