– Excerpt from Legacy of Death –
Went into the bathroom to shave. Can you read my writing Dear Journal? My hand is shaking so
as I sit to write this. Not that it matters if anyone can decipher it. Sorry, Dear Journal, I digress. I’ve always felt better after my morning shave. I saw the familiar face frowning grumpily back at me in the mirror. It froze in mid-twitch, as if a frigid Arctic wind had found its way into my tiny bathroom and plastered the shocked expression there for all eternity.
A good jest by some forgotten dark god – to smite from the darkness, and return its victim to an equally black pit. Forgive me Dear Journal, here I go again with repetitive words. Here we go round the Mulberry bush… funny how little childhood rhymes keep popping up in my head, as if doing their best to distract me. But no, I was ever one to follow a story through to its completion.
After discovering my own frozen effigy, the room turned gray and I gripped the sink to keep from falling. They have truly won the whole game now. The aliens will rule alone soon- all too soon. I
don’t feel any pain. I am numb. Numb with despair, the same flood of painless pain I had felt when my wife died.
There were tears in my eyes Dear Journal…can you imagine, I couldn’t cry for Paul or the world, but for myself, yes. Selfish bastard! Many of my previous readers and girlfriends were right about that, it seemed. Or, is it a selfishness borne to every man at the appropriate time? I wax philosophical, I hope it is the truth.
I took several deep breaths and tried to still the trembling of my finger as I touched the oily
blackness of the thing on my throat; my Vawee, my death. It was surprisingly soft and my finger left a slight indentation for a brief second. I grasped it in revulsion, planning to flush the thing. Such pain! Every nerve in my body screamed in protest. Had I forgotten the Vawee could not be removed, or had some feeble hope wavered in my brain because it was now myself who suffered?
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