So many carriers of evil exist. Resist the curve of history to dissipate into nothing. Into the German stories we tell today. Lost of all the blood and guts nightmares that might remember us of our often more horrific selves. Had we the stomachs to look. No cosmic doubles nor unholy ghosts of still-lost lovers resuscitations. No wolves to wear in this bed of never-sleep. Only just this one mutant. And him, mornings. Scratching for blood.