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ZALGO-The song that ends Earth
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Literature Text
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
I close my eyes, plug my ears, roll around in my bed, try not to notice the annoying sound. What has happened to silence? Where has it gone? I concentrate on the quiet ticking of the clock, but the sound doesn't fade. I sigh and try to float away in my thoughts, to a happy, silent place. It doesn't shut up. I only wish it would SHUT UP. Nothing else. It's laughing at my despair.
eeeeeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Every now and then, my ears explode with that silent screaming. It's not just that ordinary buzzing sound you get after loud music. No. Something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong.
It sounds familiar. Like I had heard it a long time ago. But it was a long time ago. Hidden away, somewhere in the dark corners of my corrupted mind, the memory sits, dying. Rotting. Waiting. Maybe if I try really hard, I'll remember.
I'm not sure I want to remember. I'm sure I shouldn't. It's probably locked away in my head for a reason.
It's not just buzzing... Something that should never be seen or heard is trying to break free, to destroy the walls of its prison. Trying to pull me into the darkness of my own mind. The weak walls around it are slowly starting to crumble... The thin walls I have built in my soul are not strong enough to hold it. It's singing its quiet, yet so incredibly loud song of death and decay. Nobody wants to confess to themselves it is really there. We all lock it away, but cannot stop it. The memory will never fade, the fear will never be stopped, He will never give up.
The memory is poking me with its rotting fingers, whispering through its ripped throat, staring at me with lifeless eyes.
I sit in my bed, surrounded by darkness so thick I can almost touch it. Wait...
I remember now. How could I ever have forgotten it? It's His song, the song that ends the Earth, turns order into chaos. The song that has started a long time ago, before anything living, the song that we try to repress in our minds. The quiet humming of some strange, unheard song, some ancient melody that nobody understands. Doctors call it tinnitus. But we forget doctors are only human.
In the darkness, without noticing we stumble through our life, we, miserable piles of organic matter, trying to understand something that's not meant to be understood. Behind the veil, He sits, waiting. And the Chaos will come.
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
His six mouths speak in different tongues, and the seventh shall sing the song that ends the world.
It has already started.
Welcome home...
Welcome to ZALGO.
I close my eyes, plug my ears, roll around in my bed, try not to notice the annoying sound. What has happened to silence? Where has it gone? I concentrate on the quiet ticking of the clock, but the sound doesn't fade. I sigh and try to float away in my thoughts, to a happy, silent place. It doesn't shut up. I only wish it would SHUT UP. Nothing else. It's laughing at my despair.
eeeeeeeeeeEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Every now and then, my ears explode with that silent screaming. It's not just that ordinary buzzing sound you get after loud music. No. Something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong.
It sounds familiar. Like I had heard it a long time ago. But it was a long time ago. Hidden away, somewhere in the dark corners of my corrupted mind, the memory sits, dying. Rotting. Waiting. Maybe if I try really hard, I'll remember.
I'm not sure I want to remember. I'm sure I shouldn't. It's probably locked away in my head for a reason.
It's not just buzzing... Something that should never be seen or heard is trying to break free, to destroy the walls of its prison. Trying to pull me into the darkness of my own mind. The weak walls around it are slowly starting to crumble... The thin walls I have built in my soul are not strong enough to hold it. It's singing its quiet, yet so incredibly loud song of death and decay. Nobody wants to confess to themselves it is really there. We all lock it away, but cannot stop it. The memory will never fade, the fear will never be stopped, He will never give up.
The memory is poking me with its rotting fingers, whispering through its ripped throat, staring at me with lifeless eyes.
I sit in my bed, surrounded by darkness so thick I can almost touch it. Wait...
I remember now. How could I ever have forgotten it? It's His song, the song that ends the Earth, turns order into chaos. The song that has started a long time ago, before anything living, the song that we try to repress in our minds. The quiet humming of some strange, unheard song, some ancient melody that nobody understands. Doctors call it tinnitus. But we forget doctors are only human.
In the darkness, without noticing we stumble through our life, we, miserable piles of organic matter, trying to understand something that's not meant to be understood. Behind the veil, He sits, waiting. And the Chaos will come.
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
His six mouths speak in different tongues, and the seventh shall sing the song that ends the world.
It has already started.
Welcome home...
Welcome to ZALGO.
ZALGO in: The song that ends the Earth!
Hope you enjoy.
Hope you enjoy.
© 2009 - 2024 NightmareOfTheDark
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Z̛̙̥͓a̦͉̭̲͚l̟͢g̸o̧͎̭,̦̬͚̟͈͙͙
̰̯̹͔H͖̠̳̞̗̯is̩ ͉̼̝̟͙̘͖͢ń̪̥͚̣̬̫a̦̺̺̘̜̱͠m̮̰̹̣e̲͔̜ ̝͖̖̻̙̳͖i̳̪s̷̜̰͉̼̪ k̪͉̼̦ͅn̯͍͓̹o̩w̧͉̻̳͓ņ ̶͔b̪̫̥ͅy̰͎̮̮̝ ̸a͕ḽ͝l̶ ͉͘T͖̖̝y̡z͚̭͍̝̙̫͠ͅu̶͕̝͖̠͕i̞̱̺͇̬k͇̩ͅa͏̳n̪̟̮̤̫s̖͡,̺̮̱̜̣͕̝
̯͚ͅH͎̹͈e͎͇̙̟͍͓͡ ̴i̤̝̬͈̲͓͢s͓̫͙͙͘ ̱̫̘̺̩͓́t̗͍̱̦̮͚͖͝he ̤̦̺͖͜c̛̲̬̘̯͍̱a͏̭̰̰̫͕u̷̦͎͕͚͈͔s͓̜̹̟̫͘e̤͎ ̯̱̀o͍̖̻͇̼̣f̙͕̖ͅ ͡aḽ̕l̲̩͚̞͙ ̺̦t͚̖̲̱͖̜͟h̞̘̗͙͚̩e̪͎͈̯̲̳͍ ͕̖̖̖̻͘ͅl͈̟͜i̮̫̹͠ve̞s̴͉̼̜̘ t̠ͅh̞̫̩̻̤̥͝a̵̫̜̦̯t̪͈̯ ͚̣̳͓w͚̜ͅe͙̟̱͕̟ͅr̴͍̼e̸̞͓̳̱̩͎ ̬̱͉̹̮e̵͈̘̻̺̹̫̯n̛̞̹̤d͏e͏̼d̨̜͓͉̝,̞̕
͚͙̖͚͠I̬̟̰n̲͈̱͈ ̠̖̬̼t̙͈̟̼̣h̞͙̘e ̝̣̳͇͓͕ͅI̬n̜͍̜͞v͕̥̦̮͓̣̣a͝s̸̪̠̖͈͖͙i̫͉̟̤̗̜o̯̤̦̦̼ͅn͉̱͎͙̯͠ͅ ͖̩o̝̬f̲͢ ̗͙͠R͚a̵ns̴h̴̝̼̱̣̗ͅi͕͉̩̳̙̠̦n҉,͏̭̺͓̪͕̖ͅ
̘͓̪̥̟̝M̘̤̙͕͉̹͉͢i̸ḷ̫̦̫̝͔͜ͅl̹̪̩͈͢i̴o̯̱̲̤̗̖̺n̯̹̼͍s͇ ͇̦̱͈͍͕̹̕w̝̫e͉̕r̛̟͈̮̰e̩̬̤̖̩ ͖̘͚̭l̮̟͇͈̙̝͡o̯̭̻̣͖̫͢st̩͙̙,̥̙͞
̦͇͖̳̩͚̠A͓̙͖̲͕̖͇n̟̤̱͓d̸͍̞̰̭̘̳ ̨t̀h̨͎̱o͢ų̘̖s͏͉̖͖̱a͎͚̯͚̝͙n̰̗̠d̺ś̖͙̘ͅ ͎͓w̠̬͎̯̘ͅḙ̩̠͇̭̯r̞̮̜̪͢e͇̻̠ͅ ̜̹̲w̪͘ͅḙ̷͉̦͉͚e̦̥̥̠p͙̗̥̮̮̕i̶n͏͈̞̤̭̱g̱̣͡,̴͓͙͉̯ͅ
͖͓̖̜͠A͏l͘l͇̼ b̫e̩̟c͇͞ͅa͎̭̠͈u̹͔̟̤͢s͇̺̖̤͝e̞̗͓̗̺͝ ̱̼ͅof̛̺̣ ̨̣͈̩̙̬͎Z̗̫̮̭͔̼àl҉̠̭̗̱̠g̗̼̝̜o҉͎̤̱̘̻̭,͕͔̳̩
͙̜̖̫͉͜W̖͉͍̹e̥̭ ̝s̤̗̰̘̺̠͡h̰͕a̴̱̖̜͖͔ļ͎͈l̩̱̘̙͓͍ ̵̫͙n͓̣͖̭̻̠̹͝e̲̞̼̣̠v͈̠̻̬̖̹e҉̘̙̙̙̯ͅr͎̤͙͙̖̜̱ ̬̬̫̯̥̰̤l̯̪͓e͍̟̭̞͔̦t̶̜͖ ̛̹̘̠ͅh̠͠i̡̺̟̞̞̞̞̼m̹,̰̫̭̱̰̣̟
͓̱̫A͎̤͎n͓͉̹̘̰̖d̞̼͚͢ͅ ̥͔̜̻̯ͅẉ̡̙̠͚͕̙͎e͕̰͕ ̭͈̗̺͝s̙̳h̖̬͕̥͢a͏̗̰͙l̨l̪̜ ̯̟e̠̱ṋ͓̣̜̬ͅd̬̪̀ ͍͓͙̺͇h̭͕̹̠i͕̹͎̝͝ͅͅm̷,҉̤͖͓͔̞͙̦
͕̺̪̭̤͓̬F͎͇͉o͍̦͉̩̩r̸͚̯͙̦̼͉ ̪̙V̙̖͔̖͎̬en̖̞͚͈͝d͎̺͞et̝͖̝͟t̴͚͙͔̮͖a,̣̝̰̣̳̫̫
̳͍̪̙F̷͚̠͓͎̣o̪̘̘r̵ ̘̯̫͙͔͇͢h̜̬o̮͎̪̻̦ṇ̝̲̞̯̺͘ͅơ̹ŗ,҉͉̣
̤̞̬̱A̼̼̮̜̘n̦̘̜̯̱d̪̩̲̳̮͘ ̞̞͚̦͠f͡ͅo͕̞̗͙͓r͕̞̱͖ ͟o̡͉̗̫͔͔̬͕ụ̞r̘ ̧p͓̫͓͈͡e̢o̲̫̻̬̦͞p̧̗l̟̀e̯͎͝,̥͚̥̼
̺͈W̷e̞͉̯̙̠̫ ҉̱̟̰̹̱mu̯̝͔̥̬͢s͘t҉̠͍͙̠ ̢̫̗̝e̯̬͇͎̯n̘͈̗d̖͉̭̭̬̝ ̜̣̪͟ͅZ̹̞͎̠̣͢a̰̯̙͇͖̥l̜̬̣̞͚g͝o̩̻͍͕͝,̼͇̼̘
̱͎̥͇̥̤͙T̘̫̪͈h͕͉̺̜̱̻̖̕i̗s ͉͉c̪̥̩ͅre̤̬̖a͚̼t̫̗̰͔ur̺̼͉̮̤e̼̝̹̘,̱̭̩̥̟
͔̰͚͢H̢͖a͕̘̼̳̟͓s͏͖̖̰ ̧͔͚͍̣̮̪ͅc̢̦̖̙͓̟̝̜o̬͇͕̭r̸͈̘̻͔̣ͅr͔̪̞ͅu̴̩̺̣̪pt̥̣̦́e̴̙̺̼ͅd͍̦͞ ̝̜͠t̝̹͈̩͇͎o̻̩̺̕o͖̳̳̥ͅ m̖̘̖͚͘ạ͕̰̗͉͙ṋ̞̺y̲̙̫̘,̪̱̬
̬̯̗̱̫͍͈͘A̢̖̟̠̠̤͉͈n̗̠d̫̞ ̡̮͓̥̼̼̣o̢̠̱̗͙̭n͚̣̲͘ly̟͖̱̳̥̬̮ ̙̖t̼̞͙͚́h҉̜̘͍e̜͚̹̝̱ ̛̥d̰̳̙͔̤̝̩e͇͍̲͚̘͚͠a̙̙̬̠̯͕t͉͙̣͜ͅḥ͘ ͓̳̬͎́o̝̹̙͞f̼͉̜͡ ̹̤͈̻̤̗͇Z̝̩a͕̥͚̞ḻ̺̺̥g̴̖o̞̘̺̺̞͜,͚͎͓̥̗
͇̥͈̰̼̱̳̀A̢͔̩̤͓n̺d̞̝̺̠̰̀ͅ ̟̼h͙̲͈̟̩i̜̭̱s̮ ̴d̮̩͢e͍͙̭a͍̙̟̯͝t͎̙̬͝h̷̙̰̪̮̥̠̲ ͈̮̥̠͍ͅi̝̖̲͕͙̯̹n͜ ̸̝̟͉̭͉̱̜e҉͔̠͕͈v̱͍̘͚͖̞e̵̪̖͔̙̩̗̦r͖͜ͅy̩͈͙̰ ̗c͔̫͇̩ͅr͕͖̣͕͍͕͠e̥̞a̢̲̼̟̟̤̦̻t̟̠͈̮̟̩ṵ̻̘͉̳͚r͓̖̻̹̤͙̀ͅe̘̻̦̺̹̻̜ ̲h̶̻̘̰͙̻̭̟e͎̹̖͎͇͉͈͜ ̺̠͈̝̖͘c̜̮͠o̴̱̪̭͓r̶͎͓̱͇̯̜̗r̨̗̼͔̗̭̝u͎̲͖̜̥͎p̫̤̬̞͕̝̺t҉͔͙̗͙̺͓͈e̲̼̞͓̱̣͠d̵̥̥̹̖,
̸͕̦͉S̨̺̯̥͇h͏a̴̗̙̫͉͎̬̣l̯̣͖̘͉l̪̫ ̩̰̠̜̹̫ḛn͔͔̣̳̱̰d̥̼̭̼̻͖̥ ̛̪̯̲̯̣̻͍t̵͖̭̞͚͔͎h̦̬̟̼͘e̡̱͔̝͚ ͍͔͚̣̖̘̭c̠̜o̮̹͝r̙̥͡ru̙̬̞ṕ̦͖t҉̜̰i͖͔͇ͅo͏̠̯̰̲͖ń̜̻̟ͅͅ ̪̝͍͔̠t͈̹h̺͇̳̰a͓̻̰t̻͇̫̦̻͉͍͝ ̭͖͈͔̖͞w͓̳̙̜a̱̳s̢̞̣̣̝̣ ̭i̸͙̦n̗̹̩͠ t̪̝̭͕h͍̹e ̻̳͖̤̮̼c͎͙̣r̸̲̪̹͇̖͎è̞a̯̪̯̦̞̗̱t̪̻̻̝̩u̸͔ͅre̞̥̝̺,͙͓̪͠
̠͚̺̩̲̣̹͠F͈̲͖̹r̝̹͓͕͎̮̀e̙͕̞é͓̹ ͈̝̻̘t͓̞̘h̪͈̜̻̝̜e҉̩̺ ̞̺̦̣c̬͈͇̱͉̩o̬͖͙͈̬̫̹̕r̟̳̻̪̖̗͇r̶u҉̬̬p̳̮̥̥͔̟͈͟t͇̤̻͎̟͘e̷̲̮̞̺ͅͅd̩͇̣͓̘̼̥,̩̱͔
̳̲̗͇E̼̫̗̹͔͠nḏ̯̮ ̀Z̻̫̖͙̦̩̟͘a̧̬l͡g̰͓͉͚͓̲͜o̰̰̻͖̗̣̕ͅ,̛̣͍
҉̪A̢̠͕̖̭̰n͖̻̮͔d̸̤̞͇̙̳̯ ͕̘͖̙̩̪̞͢b̟̺͘r͚͇͉̻͈̀i̼͎̼ng̲̹ ͈̟t̜̺͓͚̦̘h̥̠̩͉̹̦̥e ̨̼̪̥̱͉̹a̲̠̞̤͕n̛̯̗̠c̻̦͔̰͠ͅi̟͓̻̭̭e͓̯n̸͈̮̼t̴͍͓̭͈͙̻̩ ̟͔̭̼̞͓͝s̡̮͉͕̥̮̜̹u͠n,̞̦
̝̮̠̼̀Ą̜̣̲̟n̳̠͈̘̝d̦̺͔̞͢ ̴̖̗͉ͅt͇͓͓̩̞h͓̺̦̳̺̖e̜̼̞͕̗̫͎ ̦͍͕̬̥͔̘e̶̩̜̯ͅte҉rn͙̪̥͕ͅa̢̻l͝ ̸͖mơ͎͙̤ò̳̺̮n̩̫̬,̰̦̦̙̭̀
̲T̯͉̹ͅh̼̥̞͙̹e̵ ̲͈͢b͎̟̣́l̡i̢n̻͖̰̮̝̺͕d̶̰̤̠͉̰i͎̳̗͕n̖̜̮̺̤̳͟ͅg͓̙ ̧̥h̵̼̤e̲a͔t͚̠ ̪o̦͈̜͖̺f͠ ̭̦̺̝̱t͖͓h͏̫̥̠͇̠̟ḛ̡͓͙̰ ̤̹͙̣d̫̱̱̤̘ḙ̗̦̩͜se͇̮͔̲r͉͚̭̙̮̣̝͞țͅͅs,̧̣
͍͖̰̠͙ͅA̺͞n͏̮d̢̳̣̺̱͔̩̘ ̺t͡h͈̘̲͞e̤ ̗̳̳͜b̢ẹ̙͎̺a̖̟̥͙̭͇͇̕u͝t̘̩̣̗i̧͈̝̲̹̱ͅf͖̯̥u̬͠ḻ̜̟̳̹͚ ͖̳̹c̝̺̰͖̩͘ͅo͉͍̞̠͉̭ͅl̴̲d̹̮̣ ͍̞͎̙̻̟ͅo̥͇̞̲͔͖̼f̸͉̗̗͔̩̟ ̢̩̭̘̩͇͔͓t͖͝h͉̤͝e ̭̗͇͎̜͇͟w͕͎̫i̩͈̭̖n̰t̳͕͙̳̙e̡͖̫̞̦͙̱̹r̭͔̖͙̣̀,̳
̵̠͎͙L̢̪͖e͎̖̺̫͓̲͍͝t̪̜̮̪̝͚͜ ͏̥̥̬ţ̬̩̟h̖̗o̤s̲e̞̘̲̮͍̥ ̥̹̭̩̻̰͉b̤͓̰́ṵ͟r̛ǹ͚̞̘͚̤̱͖ ͖̹̠̫h̨į͇͇̯̝͍̬m̩̼̝̪̮̮̹ ̢͉̙̰̠͈d҉o̞͘w͈̥͉̩̼͉͎͞n̡̮̦̭,̩͚̣͚̻͞
̪͇̳̱T̸͚͕͈̖o̡͔̭ ̸͎̻̻̠͉a̲͎̞͕͔sh̩͍̺̤̲e̵͓̦̳̪̪̠̳s͔̳̜̲̳̩̱.̖͕̜̙
̰̯̹͔H͖̠̳̞̗̯is̩ ͉̼̝̟͙̘͖͢ń̪̥͚̣̬̫a̦̺̺̘̜̱͠m̮̰̹̣e̲͔̜ ̝͖̖̻̙̳͖i̳̪s̷̜̰͉̼̪ k̪͉̼̦ͅn̯͍͓̹o̩w̧͉̻̳͓ņ ̶͔b̪̫̥ͅy̰͎̮̮̝ ̸a͕ḽ͝l̶ ͉͘T͖̖̝y̡z͚̭͍̝̙̫͠ͅu̶͕̝͖̠͕i̞̱̺͇̬k͇̩ͅa͏̳n̪̟̮̤̫s̖͡,̺̮̱̜̣͕̝
̯͚ͅH͎̹͈e͎͇̙̟͍͓͡ ̴i̤̝̬͈̲͓͢s͓̫͙͙͘ ̱̫̘̺̩͓́t̗͍̱̦̮͚͖͝he ̤̦̺͖͜c̛̲̬̘̯͍̱a͏̭̰̰̫͕u̷̦͎͕͚͈͔s͓̜̹̟̫͘e̤͎ ̯̱̀o͍̖̻͇̼̣f̙͕̖ͅ ͡aḽ̕l̲̩͚̞͙ ̺̦t͚̖̲̱͖̜͟h̞̘̗͙͚̩e̪͎͈̯̲̳͍ ͕̖̖̖̻͘ͅl͈̟͜i̮̫̹͠ve̞s̴͉̼̜̘ t̠ͅh̞̫̩̻̤̥͝a̵̫̜̦̯t̪͈̯ ͚̣̳͓w͚̜ͅe͙̟̱͕̟ͅr̴͍̼e̸̞͓̳̱̩͎ ̬̱͉̹̮e̵͈̘̻̺̹̫̯n̛̞̹̤d͏e͏̼d̨̜͓͉̝,̞̕
͚͙̖͚͠I̬̟̰n̲͈̱͈ ̠̖̬̼t̙͈̟̼̣h̞͙̘e ̝̣̳͇͓͕ͅI̬n̜͍̜͞v͕̥̦̮͓̣̣a͝s̸̪̠̖͈͖͙i̫͉̟̤̗̜o̯̤̦̦̼ͅn͉̱͎͙̯͠ͅ ͖̩o̝̬f̲͢ ̗͙͠R͚a̵ns̴h̴̝̼̱̣̗ͅi͕͉̩̳̙̠̦n҉,͏̭̺͓̪͕̖ͅ
̘͓̪̥̟̝M̘̤̙͕͉̹͉͢i̸ḷ̫̦̫̝͔͜ͅl̹̪̩͈͢i̴o̯̱̲̤̗̖̺n̯̹̼͍s͇ ͇̦̱͈͍͕̹̕w̝̫e͉̕r̛̟͈̮̰e̩̬̤̖̩ ͖̘͚̭l̮̟͇͈̙̝͡o̯̭̻̣͖̫͢st̩͙̙,̥̙͞
̦͇͖̳̩͚̠A͓̙͖̲͕̖͇n̟̤̱͓d̸͍̞̰̭̘̳ ̨t̀h̨͎̱o͢ų̘̖s͏͉̖͖̱a͎͚̯͚̝͙n̰̗̠d̺ś̖͙̘ͅ ͎͓w̠̬͎̯̘ͅḙ̩̠͇̭̯r̞̮̜̪͢e͇̻̠ͅ ̜̹̲w̪͘ͅḙ̷͉̦͉͚e̦̥̥̠p͙̗̥̮̮̕i̶n͏͈̞̤̭̱g̱̣͡,̴͓͙͉̯ͅ
͖͓̖̜͠A͏l͘l͇̼ b̫e̩̟c͇͞ͅa͎̭̠͈u̹͔̟̤͢s͇̺̖̤͝e̞̗͓̗̺͝ ̱̼ͅof̛̺̣ ̨̣͈̩̙̬͎Z̗̫̮̭͔̼àl҉̠̭̗̱̠g̗̼̝̜o҉͎̤̱̘̻̭,͕͔̳̩
͙̜̖̫͉͜W̖͉͍̹e̥̭ ̝s̤̗̰̘̺̠͡h̰͕a̴̱̖̜͖͔ļ͎͈l̩̱̘̙͓͍ ̵̫͙n͓̣͖̭̻̠̹͝e̲̞̼̣̠v͈̠̻̬̖̹e҉̘̙̙̙̯ͅr͎̤͙͙̖̜̱ ̬̬̫̯̥̰̤l̯̪͓e͍̟̭̞͔̦t̶̜͖ ̛̹̘̠ͅh̠͠i̡̺̟̞̞̞̞̼m̹,̰̫̭̱̰̣̟
͓̱̫A͎̤͎n͓͉̹̘̰̖d̞̼͚͢ͅ ̥͔̜̻̯ͅẉ̡̙̠͚͕̙͎e͕̰͕ ̭͈̗̺͝s̙̳h̖̬͕̥͢a͏̗̰͙l̨l̪̜ ̯̟e̠̱ṋ͓̣̜̬ͅd̬̪̀ ͍͓͙̺͇h̭͕̹̠i͕̹͎̝͝ͅͅm̷,҉̤͖͓͔̞͙̦
͕̺̪̭̤͓̬F͎͇͉o͍̦͉̩̩r̸͚̯͙̦̼͉ ̪̙V̙̖͔̖͎̬en̖̞͚͈͝d͎̺͞et̝͖̝͟t̴͚͙͔̮͖a,̣̝̰̣̳̫̫
̳͍̪̙F̷͚̠͓͎̣o̪̘̘r̵ ̘̯̫͙͔͇͢h̜̬o̮͎̪̻̦ṇ̝̲̞̯̺͘ͅơ̹ŗ,҉͉̣
̤̞̬̱A̼̼̮̜̘n̦̘̜̯̱d̪̩̲̳̮͘ ̞̞͚̦͠f͡ͅo͕̞̗͙͓r͕̞̱͖ ͟o̡͉̗̫͔͔̬͕ụ̞r̘ ̧p͓̫͓͈͡e̢o̲̫̻̬̦͞p̧̗l̟̀e̯͎͝,̥͚̥̼
̺͈W̷e̞͉̯̙̠̫ ҉̱̟̰̹̱mu̯̝͔̥̬͢s͘t҉̠͍͙̠ ̢̫̗̝e̯̬͇͎̯n̘͈̗d̖͉̭̭̬̝ ̜̣̪͟ͅZ̹̞͎̠̣͢a̰̯̙͇͖̥l̜̬̣̞͚g͝o̩̻͍͕͝,̼͇̼̘
̱͎̥͇̥̤͙T̘̫̪͈h͕͉̺̜̱̻̖̕i̗s ͉͉c̪̥̩ͅre̤̬̖a͚̼t̫̗̰͔ur̺̼͉̮̤e̼̝̹̘,̱̭̩̥̟
͔̰͚͢H̢͖a͕̘̼̳̟͓s͏͖̖̰ ̧͔͚͍̣̮̪ͅc̢̦̖̙͓̟̝̜o̬͇͕̭r̸͈̘̻͔̣ͅr͔̪̞ͅu̴̩̺̣̪pt̥̣̦́e̴̙̺̼ͅd͍̦͞ ̝̜͠t̝̹͈̩͇͎o̻̩̺̕o͖̳̳̥ͅ m̖̘̖͚͘ạ͕̰̗͉͙ṋ̞̺y̲̙̫̘,̪̱̬
̬̯̗̱̫͍͈͘A̢̖̟̠̠̤͉͈n̗̠d̫̞ ̡̮͓̥̼̼̣o̢̠̱̗͙̭n͚̣̲͘ly̟͖̱̳̥̬̮ ̙̖t̼̞͙͚́h҉̜̘͍e̜͚̹̝̱ ̛̥d̰̳̙͔̤̝̩e͇͍̲͚̘͚͠a̙̙̬̠̯͕t͉͙̣͜ͅḥ͘ ͓̳̬͎́o̝̹̙͞f̼͉̜͡ ̹̤͈̻̤̗͇Z̝̩a͕̥͚̞ḻ̺̺̥g̴̖o̞̘̺̺̞͜,͚͎͓̥̗
͇̥͈̰̼̱̳̀A̢͔̩̤͓n̺d̞̝̺̠̰̀ͅ ̟̼h͙̲͈̟̩i̜̭̱s̮ ̴d̮̩͢e͍͙̭a͍̙̟̯͝t͎̙̬͝h̷̙̰̪̮̥̠̲ ͈̮̥̠͍ͅi̝̖̲͕͙̯̹n͜ ̸̝̟͉̭͉̱̜e҉͔̠͕͈v̱͍̘͚͖̞e̵̪̖͔̙̩̗̦r͖͜ͅy̩͈͙̰ ̗c͔̫͇̩ͅr͕͖̣͕͍͕͠e̥̞a̢̲̼̟̟̤̦̻t̟̠͈̮̟̩ṵ̻̘͉̳͚r͓̖̻̹̤͙̀ͅe̘̻̦̺̹̻̜ ̲h̶̻̘̰͙̻̭̟e͎̹̖͎͇͉͈͜ ̺̠͈̝̖͘c̜̮͠o̴̱̪̭͓r̶͎͓̱͇̯̜̗r̨̗̼͔̗̭̝u͎̲͖̜̥͎p̫̤̬̞͕̝̺t҉͔͙̗͙̺͓͈e̲̼̞͓̱̣͠d̵̥̥̹̖,
̸͕̦͉S̨̺̯̥͇h͏a̴̗̙̫͉͎̬̣l̯̣͖̘͉l̪̫ ̩̰̠̜̹̫ḛn͔͔̣̳̱̰d̥̼̭̼̻͖̥ ̛̪̯̲̯̣̻͍t̵͖̭̞͚͔͎h̦̬̟̼͘e̡̱͔̝͚ ͍͔͚̣̖̘̭c̠̜o̮̹͝r̙̥͡ru̙̬̞ṕ̦͖t҉̜̰i͖͔͇ͅo͏̠̯̰̲͖ń̜̻̟ͅͅ ̪̝͍͔̠t͈̹h̺͇̳̰a͓̻̰t̻͇̫̦̻͉͍͝ ̭͖͈͔̖͞w͓̳̙̜a̱̳s̢̞̣̣̝̣ ̭i̸͙̦n̗̹̩͠ t̪̝̭͕h͍̹e ̻̳͖̤̮̼c͎͙̣r̸̲̪̹͇̖͎è̞a̯̪̯̦̞̗̱t̪̻̻̝̩u̸͔ͅre̞̥̝̺,͙͓̪͠
̠͚̺̩̲̣̹͠F͈̲͖̹r̝̹͓͕͎̮̀e̙͕̞é͓̹ ͈̝̻̘t͓̞̘h̪͈̜̻̝̜e҉̩̺ ̞̺̦̣c̬͈͇̱͉̩o̬͖͙͈̬̫̹̕r̟̳̻̪̖̗͇r̶u҉̬̬p̳̮̥̥͔̟͈͟t͇̤̻͎̟͘e̷̲̮̞̺ͅͅd̩͇̣͓̘̼̥,̩̱͔
̳̲̗͇E̼̫̗̹͔͠nḏ̯̮ ̀Z̻̫̖͙̦̩̟͘a̧̬l͡g̰͓͉͚͓̲͜o̰̰̻͖̗̣̕ͅ,̛̣͍
҉̪A̢̠͕̖̭̰n͖̻̮͔d̸̤̞͇̙̳̯ ͕̘͖̙̩̪̞͢b̟̺͘r͚͇͉̻͈̀i̼͎̼ng̲̹ ͈̟t̜̺͓͚̦̘h̥̠̩͉̹̦̥e ̨̼̪̥̱͉̹a̲̠̞̤͕n̛̯̗̠c̻̦͔̰͠ͅi̟͓̻̭̭e͓̯n̸͈̮̼t̴͍͓̭͈͙̻̩ ̟͔̭̼̞͓͝s̡̮͉͕̥̮̜̹u͠n,̞̦
̝̮̠̼̀Ą̜̣̲̟n̳̠͈̘̝d̦̺͔̞͢ ̴̖̗͉ͅt͇͓͓̩̞h͓̺̦̳̺̖e̜̼̞͕̗̫͎ ̦͍͕̬̥͔̘e̶̩̜̯ͅte҉rn͙̪̥͕ͅa̢̻l͝ ̸͖mơ͎͙̤ò̳̺̮n̩̫̬,̰̦̦̙̭̀
̲T̯͉̹ͅh̼̥̞͙̹e̵ ̲͈͢b͎̟̣́l̡i̢n̻͖̰̮̝̺͕d̶̰̤̠͉̰i͎̳̗͕n̖̜̮̺̤̳͟ͅg͓̙ ̧̥h̵̼̤e̲a͔t͚̠ ̪o̦͈̜͖̺f͠ ̭̦̺̝̱t͖͓h͏̫̥̠͇̠̟ḛ̡͓͙̰ ̤̹͙̣d̫̱̱̤̘ḙ̗̦̩͜se͇̮͔̲r͉͚̭̙̮̣̝͞țͅͅs,̧̣
͍͖̰̠͙ͅA̺͞n͏̮d̢̳̣̺̱͔̩̘ ̺t͡h͈̘̲͞e̤ ̗̳̳͜b̢ẹ̙͎̺a̖̟̥͙̭͇͇̕u͝t̘̩̣̗i̧͈̝̲̹̱ͅf͖̯̥u̬͠ḻ̜̟̳̹͚ ͖̳̹c̝̺̰͖̩͘ͅo͉͍̞̠͉̭ͅl̴̲d̹̮̣ ͍̞͎̙̻̟ͅo̥͇̞̲͔͖̼f̸͉̗̗͔̩̟ ̢̩̭̘̩͇͔͓t͖͝h͉̤͝e ̭̗͇͎̜͇͟w͕͎̫i̩͈̭̖n̰t̳͕͙̳̙e̡͖̫̞̦͙̱̹r̭͔̖͙̣̀,̳
̵̠͎͙L̢̪͖e͎̖̺̫͓̲͍͝t̪̜̮̪̝͚͜ ͏̥̥̬ţ̬̩̟h̖̗o̤s̲e̞̘̲̮͍̥ ̥̹̭̩̻̰͉b̤͓̰́ṵ͟r̛ǹ͚̞̘͚̤̱͖ ͖̹̠̫h̨į͇͇̯̝͍̬m̩̼̝̪̮̮̹ ̢͉̙̰̠͈d҉o̞͘w͈̥͉̩̼͉͎͞n̡̮̦̭,̩͚̣͚̻͞
̪͇̳̱T̸͚͕͈̖o̡͔̭ ̸͎̻̻̠͉a̲͎̞͕͔sh̩͍̺̤̲e̵͓̦̳̪̪̠̳s͔̳̜̲̳̩̱.̖͕̜̙