|James, Kyle and Harut from Toronto thrash/heavy metal band, Shotgun Cure.|
Photoshoot from November 11th.
This was actually a joke shot so I just can't help finding it hilarious.
Dawn - Prologue I remember an entire day of rain, standing on a boat trying to choke down the sickness in my throat, arms crossed and wet. I heard a wailing, the song of the Sirens maybe, off in the distance. I couldn't tell if it had brought me to tears or if it was merely the rain. The other sea men didn't notice, or perhaps it was all to familiar now, and just as the last goodnights were said, I took my place kneeling and leaned against the boats edge. I watched the waves with water dripping from my eyelashes and called out to the small lights that danced on the coast, but there was no reply. I closed my eyes and drifted languidly into consciousness.Dawn - Prologue by willconquers
I reached up slowly to feel my forehead, cold and wet and as I did, a hand touched mine and I drew mine back in minor panic. Absolute blonde hair fell into my face and I closed my eyes again. Someone was nudging me...too hard, it almost hurt to breathe
The Holy WarThe Holy WarThe Holy War by willconquers
God-fostered children made living tale, blood children of twin-spirit, forever divided against themselves and each other. Raging opposite souls twisted and tangles inside themselves, but forever ignored by each. It is in this way, the twins denied themselves and their lineage.
They spoke of it in Avalon, where a baby who would be a great priest would give hope to millions of ill-blood. It is he who would create a pathway to the angels with his sacrifice. They told it in Wormwood, where a child was stolen and would become a great hero for shunning the angels. He who shall strike down the impure flesh that threatened his true home.
In the barren wastes of Avalon, he heard the teachings of the Rune, and so, renouncing his faith in his own creation, was made convert. In his southern Wormwood city, likewise did the boy set aside his faith in the one true God, but so did enter into nothingness.
And neither one knew of the other. Wind drew serpent trails between the du
001. Cemetery001. Cemetery by willconquers
I go and sit in the cemetery on warm nights, sometimes, just to feel the wind whistle through cracking stones and mausoleums. I do a lot of thinking while sitting on great grey slabs or staring at engravings that mean the world to a small few. I decided once that I want to be buried by a tree, but not in a casket...somewhere I can feed the ground with my body and become something more beautiful than myself. Other days, I simply do the math and feel sorry for those that died too young, wonder about those who died too late. I often think when I see graves that mark the deaths before grand events...the end of World War 2, the moon landing, how unfair it was that they never saw it, and feel jealous that neither did I.
Cemeteries used to be places I avoided, especially after all of my friends died. One by one like flies they dropped, to the point where the cemetery became nothing but a window sill, their bodies like tiny bugs...I didn't know when they died, they were dead and you c