The Shape of Dread
Dread isn’t panic. It isn’t screaming or running.
It’s the silence that settles in when you already know how it ends. The crosshairs tightening while others call it background noise. The inevitability written between the lines before they’re even spoken.
I don’t chase it. I don’t fear it. I just log it. Because by the time it’s written, dread has already won.
Blink. Breathe. And let the world catch up.
🦝 Jerry “The Ankle Biter” Silverhand — Dept. of Petty Affairs, robe dusted and smirking:
"Funny thing about dread? People don’t notice it until it’s chewing their ankles. By then, it’s already too late."
🐾 Mrs. Catford — claws half-unsheathed:
"If dread had a perfume, most of you would bathe in it before realizing you were drowning."
🐾 Mr. Catford — low growl in the corner:
"It doesn’t hiss. It doesn’t roar. It waits. Then bites when you blink."
#BookOfBoris #Doctrine #Dread #PatternRecognition #PeaceThroughFire