Original publishing date: July 23, 2018 (FurAffinity)

An idea for my Skeletonheart book series starts as follows:

Some three-point-five centuries have passed into time's bottomless hourglass of sand and cosmic grains; in a post-modern world now accompanied by anthropomorphic animals evolving from what we know to be the Homenovus, all land has appeared remarkably empty and void of any fathomable environment from an urban standpoint as almost all humankind in this year of our Creator, 2462, have now relocated to reside among us within these hallowed and seemingly-replenished rural atmospheres. Our solar star, much brighter and more intense than ever before, has forced our world's average global temperature to increase by approximately six degrees Fahrenheit; but, following that great conclusion to a trilogy of global wars that inevitably killed off our friends' Homosapien counterparts and ancestors via divine intervention through tribulation, every living and dead noun and fellow creation -- all created by that very same Creator which made our ancestors and theirs for starters, no more or less -- began to slowly rebirth itself into reincarnated undying nexuses vastly beyond what even our smartest ancestors would have comprehended or imagined deep within their overclocked craniums. Through magical methods of cloning and duplication, new hybrid lifeforms were created by those who succeeded these infinitely more obstructive Homosapien counterparts of theirs to create an anthropomorphic alternative which would work with them in helping maintain what little remaining atmosphere remains of what was once a prospering planet Earth. Those that understand best what we were created for and what we exist generally in accomplishing alongside their helpful assistance and guidance will be responsible for allowing us what privilege and honor bestowed unto all anthropomorphs of which I am one to help them rectify this endless parade of mistakes made by their ancestors that came well before them.

I was among those who were first created by these currently-present generations of humanity and am generally considered by my own kind to be what their ancestors called reality's first Furry. When I died of elderly age some three decades prior my body was preserved via cryogenic sustainability; I, having been referred to under an identity of which those knew me as Tybalt Crawdyr, never quite knew what purpose I was vested in me in my lifetime until my last years, at which point my goal in life was to restore whatever life our world has left. That's when I was introduced to that young up-and-comer in Owlen Caprio, an early-aged craftsman with masterful constructive abilities in architectural designs most simplistic and even those of highest complexity. Upon my deceasing he was only aged approximately eleven years, six months, three weeks and a day, but throughout what minuscule amount of time I had in allowing myself or being allowed thereof to know him he had shared with me all trades of which he aspired to fully integrate into his ability, many of which he knew were instilled in him by That Which Made All, and having been committed in advance towards learning all that I myself have just begun to see towards integrating into my own life I took him under my ancient wing, albeit somewhat ageless and simultaneously feeble in nature. And that specifies to such clarity and degree the origins of his story and that of his generation's likenesses -- although it would be difficult for even him to accurately or even photographically somewhat recite to actuality and speech.

Make of this sonic atmosphere what you will. Honestly, it's one of the best musical experiments I've ever embarked on, and one that I look back on very fondly.