Butler F. Temple, ‘The Blood and the Wound that Drains’ – Terminal Transit


‘The Blood and the Wound that Drains’

The NotBeSpeak will not be spoken of. They are the space between the words. Not the words themselves.

The pause before the sentence.

The sigh that follows. The NotBeSpeak are ancient. Timeless. Dangerous. Alien. The NotBeSpeak are shapeless. Always shifting. Drifting outside of definition. Beyond boundaries. The NotBeSpeak are not evil. This is not a word for them. No words really are. The NotBeSpeak need shape now. They need form to form their dismal plan. The NotBeSpeak seek a host. Like a vacuum needs a vessel to empty.

Blood needs a wound to drain.

Darkness needs a light to extinguish.

There are five NotBeSpeak and they are currently devoid of physical form. They are in-between. Liminal. The thought that flutters briefly before dimming to die not formed. The space you see between two books on the same shelf where another one wouldn’t fit. The something you do not hear as the sound of it jostles your eardrum. The shadow cast you cannot see for the angle of its origin. Were you to know where to look and, more importantly, were able to comprehend it, you would gradually come to understand that the influence of the NotBeSpeak can most properly be understood in terms of the Three Tiers of Change;


Present-Change and




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