Negaduck9

Time to Believe by Kim McFarland It was a dark and stormy night.  The rattle of the rain on the roof and the intermittent rolling thunder blended with the heartbeat-like thumping of the Ink Machine and the creaking of the ink pipes. The pipes permeated the entirety of Joey Drew Studios, from the roof to the system of caverns below, circulating ink like blood through a body.  A few had suspected that more than ink moved through the pipes.  If only they knew. There was a time when it was nothing more than a viewpoint.  It floated along, barely conscious, less substantial than a breath.  Like most of its kind, it was not aware of itself.  It