PURE

Part 1: The Descent

You know what you are. The creeping stain that soils the edge of an unblemished linen. An imperfection that makes the mother pull the world from its table, and when, swearing, cannot remove you, leaves everything you’ve tarnished folded and forgotten in some dark cabinet. The dirt tread under the masses's footfalls is a dream to you. To pass the eons unnoticed by their turning. To be compounded into clay or worked into soil, so you might at least be made into something useful.

Content warning: Violence, gore, sexual themes