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“Each morning I wake, I lie and wonder if I'll live to see the next.”
The words I had once said, nearly two days since my arrival. Words I had spoken, unaware of what could get their grasp on me.
This morning I woke, the sun mighty enough to burn one alive not yet risen. The shallow winds of the darkness whispering past the quiet windows.
It was much like a dream. Except, dreams aren’t known to hold endless twisting and crunching sounds that stain the very drums of your ears.
Never would I have thought this was how it’d feel.
But, I am here. I am still. The dead weight of my hand no longer keeps my focus. The only thing I can feel in this moment is the gnawing at my skin, the scratching of dirty nails trying to get through me.
To let my soul free.
Even if I were doing anything to prevent the inconvenience, I was unaware. I can’t even differentiate dead and alive.
Though, whatever it was, could differentiate dead and alive, and I was classified as alive, and it wanted me dead. Whatever it was, enjoyed the skin of that so-called ‘Gravedigger’, and staring back at me, was that so-called Gravedigger.
Staring back at me with the crimson red liquid dripping from its hands, my crimson red liquid, a crazed tremor in its eyes.
I had sworn to go gently, but ‘going gently’ was subjective. And, alas, it was obvious my idea of gentle was never the average idea of gentle.
Going ‘gently’ by the hands of this monster was enough to fulfill even my deepest desires. I was gazing at the face of death — at the face of my death…
And, he was beautiful.
I had always admired the idea of the dead, the concept of them. The process of becoming one was oh-so sweeter than just the concept of it.
Like weight lifted off my shoulders. The sounds of twisting and crunching, and gurgling and heavy breathing shifted into the sounds of birds chirping without a burning sun, sounds of a pencil meeting paper.
He wasn’t just an it, he wasn’t just a monster, he was my creator, he was what will bring me into my full potential. He was desirable.
This morning I woke, and had came to realize I didn’t mind dying if it meant dying by the hands of true beauty.