White on white translucent black snails. Back on the rack. Gideon Leeches are dead. The bats have left the bell tower. The victims have been bled. Red velvet lines the suckling vox. Gideon Leeches are dead. Undead, undead, undead.
The parasitic rides file past their tomb, strewn with time's dead flowers, bereft in deathly bloom, alone in a darkened room. The slugs. Gideon Leeches are dead. Undead, undead, undead