Train of Thought by P. S. Gifford © 2008 My train of thought just pulled into the station. And all my maddened inspirations scrambled out, one after another after another. Oh such chaos and confusion. It was a scene of Bedlam. I quickly tried to congregate them into some orderly fashion. To contain their intrinsic wickedness. Yet, my creations vastly outnumber me. Even now as I attempt to write this. My hackles are raised. My senses are reeling. I perceive them plotting. Every iniquitous thought I ever created in my vivid imagination. Each gruesome death scene I ever graphically penned. The torture. The fear. The pain. Corrupted innocence. Are all here now… And they have only one motivation. They are united by a core powerful purpose. Revenge on their maker.