Wait. It has passed. Deja Vu* can be very disturbing.

Muted Chaos. It sounds a bit funny to say, but that is the best description I can give for what I hear. It is difficult to judge the origin. My first guess, Sioctha le heagla, proves to wrong. The sound fades as I move toward that passage. So too does the sound fade as I move close to Brionglóid a bheith agat ar rud and Anois. Perhaps from behind the potted trees and shrubbery.

Behind the trees and potted greenery, is, much to no one's surprise, a door. Oddly enough, it is a massive door - odd in that I should've noticed it before now. There are no apparent means to open the door, and it is in fact quite heavily barred. One small and very thick window provides a glimpse inside. Plans and diagram, unreadable through the glass, line the walls. And there is a solitary figure.

What picture do you get in your mind's eye when I mention Mengele? I see a gaunt man, thin and tall. I see a man of keen intellect. One who uses his sharp mind to further evil. And mostly I see a man with cold eyes. Not the eyes of the dead, but one whose eyes are always looking at the dead (though some of those may not yet know they are dead). That is the type of man I see behind the glass. He is what would be considered multitasking. He is sharpening knives, polishing guns, brewing noxious potions, and even forging pointy/blade-filled/hooked implements of torture and death. I turn away, but not before he turns to catch a glimpse of me. His expression doesn't change, but his eyes reveal a longing to do unspeakable things. I think this door is shut tight for very good reasons.



When journeying through the mind, even a semi-fictional one, sometimes real life brain things happen. Like DejaVu. Like Jamais Vu. Like accidentally erasing an entire post and having to re-write the silly thing.