Dear Death,
I met your friend.
It was late at night, and I decided to pass through the graveyard. There was this rumor at my school where this kid had thought he had seen some kind of 'creature' walking through there. I wanted to check it out and see if it was real. I had never really believed in the supernatural.
Now that I think about it, my cat and some of the dogs in the neighborhood had been missing.
I shoved open the creaky wooden gate and slipped inside, keeping my eyes peeled. At first, I saw nothing. But as everything quieted down to just my breathing, I saw another being sitting on a nearby gravestone, chewing something. As I got closer, I smelled something rancid like rotting meat. I got suddenly scared, so I started to back away, but my foot crunched on a twig. The skeleton looked up at me from his meal. I felt paralyzed as he hobbled his way over to me and placed a cold, wet, bloody bone hand on my cheek. That was the first time I had met my best friend.
I snuck out every night to see him in the graveyards. He could never leave the graveyards, and he enjoyed my company. We had so many conversations, about my family, my life, and the things I wanted to be. He never talked about himself, but I would notice sometimes when I was talking about my family, that he would get a sad look his eyes. Well, not that he had much of eyes, but you could tell by the way of his head posture how he felt. I talked to him out loud, but he communicated through actions. I had once brought a note pad, thinking he could write on it, but when I handed it to him, his hands, like they had bone arthritis, would not do the things he wanted. So we remained this way. It was a happy time.
It was only three days ago, while I was sitting in my boring math class, that I realized I loved him.
I'm going to tell him tonight.
........
See, over there! He's waiting for me!
What's that shiny thing he's holding?
........
Why am I in a concrete box?
Monday, May 27, 2013
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Questionnaire
Dear Death,
I've been writing letters to you lately. But I have a few questions to ask.
Who are you?
Are you even a person?
Where do you go after you die?
Why do people die?
Why do people live?
What is the purpose of dying?
What is the purpose of living?
Where is the meaning?
Where is the meaning in my life?
Will you receive this letter?
Where is my uncle who passed away?
Why was I put here?
Why is your color black?
What is my future?
Why do I love you?
Who am I?
I've been writing letters to you lately. But I have a few questions to ask.
Who are you?
Are you even a person?
Where do you go after you die?
Why do people die?
Why do people live?
What is the purpose of dying?
What is the purpose of living?
Where is the meaning?
Where is the meaning in my life?
Will you receive this letter?
Where is my uncle who passed away?
Why was I put here?
Why is your color black?
What is my future?
Why do I love you?
Who am I?
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Serial Stuffed Elephant
My Dear Death
Because I can't write, I'm sending this to you from my mind.
Even though you condemned me to this body, I somehow can't get you out of my mind. I've lived for a long, long time, and all I can hear is your voice calling to me from a distance farther than the stars. Even if I am stiff and soggy, and my heart is made of cotton, I want you to know I've been in love with you ever since I saw you. I was probably just another murderer to you. Just another assignment with bloody hands given to you from the head-honchos. You were so dark and emotionless as you sent me off to my fate, I felt as though there was some hope left for me. Even when I got reborn in this stuffed animals body, and stuck in the care of this stupid little girl, I've always held you in my mind.
When I got left out in the rain and forgotten, I was happy as I began to rot and turn into dust. That idiot little girl twists me around in upchucking throws, and when she sleeps with me my breath is choked out because she is on top of me. She's given me baths so that I'll smell for weeks of mildew, and she's cut my fur into awkward shapes. She's even cut off one of my ears. I'm a one eared elephant stuffed animal. She's put me through such torture that I've given up any hope of living. But still, I wonder. What exactly did I feel when she found me out there after a year of forgotten abandonment, smiled at me, hooked me under her arm, and brought me back home to be cleaned up? It was a light feeling, almost like the sunlight. But, well. She's only a stupid little girl. I was hoping that my body of fluff would disappear so that you would hurry and come so I can see you again. Just my luck that she would find me. Why couldn't she have just left me there?
If I was back in my original body, she would already be dead.
My dear Death. Even before meeting you, I admired you seeing your work. The way my victims would squirm at your presence, with their eyes full of fear would send chills of pleasure up my spine. When you at last took their souls away, I would stare in astonishment of how you left them in such beautiful poses. You truly are an expert. I would never be able to match your skills. Oh, Death. Don't leave me here. Hurry on your dainty dark feet and pull me out of this wretched body to be with you. I can never get you out of my mind. Never mind the head-honchos condemnation of me to this body- I will never learn the happiness that life could bring me. I only want you- and you alone.
~Pete the Strangler
Because I can't write, I'm sending this to you from my mind.
Even though you condemned me to this body, I somehow can't get you out of my mind. I've lived for a long, long time, and all I can hear is your voice calling to me from a distance farther than the stars. Even if I am stiff and soggy, and my heart is made of cotton, I want you to know I've been in love with you ever since I saw you. I was probably just another murderer to you. Just another assignment with bloody hands given to you from the head-honchos. You were so dark and emotionless as you sent me off to my fate, I felt as though there was some hope left for me. Even when I got reborn in this stuffed animals body, and stuck in the care of this stupid little girl, I've always held you in my mind.
When I got left out in the rain and forgotten, I was happy as I began to rot and turn into dust. That idiot little girl twists me around in upchucking throws, and when she sleeps with me my breath is choked out because she is on top of me. She's given me baths so that I'll smell for weeks of mildew, and she's cut my fur into awkward shapes. She's even cut off one of my ears. I'm a one eared elephant stuffed animal. She's put me through such torture that I've given up any hope of living. But still, I wonder. What exactly did I feel when she found me out there after a year of forgotten abandonment, smiled at me, hooked me under her arm, and brought me back home to be cleaned up? It was a light feeling, almost like the sunlight. But, well. She's only a stupid little girl. I was hoping that my body of fluff would disappear so that you would hurry and come so I can see you again. Just my luck that she would find me. Why couldn't she have just left me there?
If I was back in my original body, she would already be dead.
My dear Death. Even before meeting you, I admired you seeing your work. The way my victims would squirm at your presence, with their eyes full of fear would send chills of pleasure up my spine. When you at last took their souls away, I would stare in astonishment of how you left them in such beautiful poses. You truly are an expert. I would never be able to match your skills. Oh, Death. Don't leave me here. Hurry on your dainty dark feet and pull me out of this wretched body to be with you. I can never get you out of my mind. Never mind the head-honchos condemnation of me to this body- I will never learn the happiness that life could bring me. I only want you- and you alone.
~Pete the Strangler
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Time-traveling Royalty
Dear Death,
I'm writing this in bed.
If you ask why, it's because I can't do it anywhere else. The night is my only freedom. In the morning Sarah (my maid) comes and watches over me while I dress and eat with her help. As if I couldn't do that by myself. From her on, I'm passed from a thousand hands that teach me how to speak, write, walk and curtsy, and a million other abominable things that I wish I could throw down into the moat through the highest window. Except that I'm not even allowed to the second highest tower without my mothers say so. Well, my *adopted* mother, anyways. I don't even belong here. I'm not related to the royal family in any way. Nobody knows that except them and I, though. The servants and the populace have absolutely no idea. Well, I can see why. I do sort-of look like mother, with the brown hair. You wouldn't know unless you examined our blood. Besides, I've been here since I was a baby. When the real princess died at birth, they simply covered it up with my sudden appearance. I hardly remember anything about my previous family or life, but I know at least one thing. I have a secret that not even the royal family knows about.
I'm not from this time.
I'm from the future.
It took me a while to figure it out. When you travel back to the past, your time reverses ten years for every century. I don't know how old I was when I was sent, but it was a close call. Any further back, and I would've disappeared. By the way, if you travel to the future, it's almost the same thing, except the opposite. You age ten years for every century forward you go. If you get back to your time somehow, then your age snaps back to what it originally was. Since your age reverses when you go back to the past, your brain also changes. I had forgotten all about my previous existence. When I finally got older that I could start thinking for myself, my memories started returning. At first I was confused at what they were, but when I saw the insignia on my chest and put the pieces together, it all made sense. That insignia has the pattern of the falcon representing the time society from my time. They put an insignia on you so that other time travelers can recognize you, and also so that they can pull you back if you are causing trouble. I don't know if or when they are going to pull me back. I still can't remember why I'm here, pretending to be a princess that's already died. Whenever I think on this, I get extremely scared. All the people I've grown up with could disappear in a single moment, and I would never see them again. But there's something even more terrifying than that. I don't know why I'm here. It's not chance that I was put in such an important position as a part of a royal family. But I still can't remember what my mission is. If I fail that mission without knowing what it was, what could happen?
War is approaching. Already, I'm seeing the signs of death roaming in the shadow of our country. Since I don't know what my mission is, I might have to try something reckless. If I can't remember what it was that I am supposed to do in time, then I will have to go back to my time to figure it out. I've searched books and my memory to remember how to get back. If I can find out what my mission is, and be able to come back, then there is a better chance of my succeeding. I'm only worried about one thing. I was a baby when I arrived in this time. I'm not sure what time I am from. Or original age. If I happened to be 90 years old, it would mean that I had gone 9 centuries back into the past. I'm already 18 in this time spell. If I go forwards 9 centuries, I will already be dead by the time I get there. Death is faster approaching then snapping back. So, Death, I have a favor to ask of you. Please don't come. Please let me get back to my time and back safely enough so I have even the sliver of a chance to save this time space. Please guide me so I am able to save the people I love. I beg you.
Princess Amelia
I'm writing this in bed.
If you ask why, it's because I can't do it anywhere else. The night is my only freedom. In the morning Sarah (my maid) comes and watches over me while I dress and eat with her help. As if I couldn't do that by myself. From her on, I'm passed from a thousand hands that teach me how to speak, write, walk and curtsy, and a million other abominable things that I wish I could throw down into the moat through the highest window. Except that I'm not even allowed to the second highest tower without my mothers say so. Well, my *adopted* mother, anyways. I don't even belong here. I'm not related to the royal family in any way. Nobody knows that except them and I, though. The servants and the populace have absolutely no idea. Well, I can see why. I do sort-of look like mother, with the brown hair. You wouldn't know unless you examined our blood. Besides, I've been here since I was a baby. When the real princess died at birth, they simply covered it up with my sudden appearance. I hardly remember anything about my previous family or life, but I know at least one thing. I have a secret that not even the royal family knows about.
I'm not from this time.
I'm from the future.
It took me a while to figure it out. When you travel back to the past, your time reverses ten years for every century. I don't know how old I was when I was sent, but it was a close call. Any further back, and I would've disappeared. By the way, if you travel to the future, it's almost the same thing, except the opposite. You age ten years for every century forward you go. If you get back to your time somehow, then your age snaps back to what it originally was. Since your age reverses when you go back to the past, your brain also changes. I had forgotten all about my previous existence. When I finally got older that I could start thinking for myself, my memories started returning. At first I was confused at what they were, but when I saw the insignia on my chest and put the pieces together, it all made sense. That insignia has the pattern of the falcon representing the time society from my time. They put an insignia on you so that other time travelers can recognize you, and also so that they can pull you back if you are causing trouble. I don't know if or when they are going to pull me back. I still can't remember why I'm here, pretending to be a princess that's already died. Whenever I think on this, I get extremely scared. All the people I've grown up with could disappear in a single moment, and I would never see them again. But there's something even more terrifying than that. I don't know why I'm here. It's not chance that I was put in such an important position as a part of a royal family. But I still can't remember what my mission is. If I fail that mission without knowing what it was, what could happen?
War is approaching. Already, I'm seeing the signs of death roaming in the shadow of our country. Since I don't know what my mission is, I might have to try something reckless. If I can't remember what it was that I am supposed to do in time, then I will have to go back to my time to figure it out. I've searched books and my memory to remember how to get back. If I can find out what my mission is, and be able to come back, then there is a better chance of my succeeding. I'm only worried about one thing. I was a baby when I arrived in this time. I'm not sure what time I am from. Or original age. If I happened to be 90 years old, it would mean that I had gone 9 centuries back into the past. I'm already 18 in this time spell. If I go forwards 9 centuries, I will already be dead by the time I get there. Death is faster approaching then snapping back. So, Death, I have a favor to ask of you. Please don't come. Please let me get back to my time and back safely enough so I have even the sliver of a chance to save this time space. Please guide me so I am able to save the people I love. I beg you.
Princess Amelia
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Disjointed Robot
Dear Death,
a letter to you.
Whoever you are.
?
?
?
?
?
?
I'm just at the end of this existence. I have no soul. I only have a self-awareness digitally installed into my program. I cannot die. I cannot live. I have no feelings, no dreams, no memories. I can only fade.
?
?
Who am I?
Only a humanoid interface.
Created by?
humans.
For?
?
?
?
I don't remember.
"You don't?"
No.
?
?
Why?
?
Am I going to rust away like this? In this artificial body made of metal?
?
?
Can you kill me?
?
?
?
?
Why?
Didn't you want to live?
?
?
Did I?
?
?
"Yes."
?
?
War, was it?
?
?
Oh, yes. I remember now.
You were always around me.
?
?
They died.
?
Yet you still want to live?
"Yes."
?
?
?
Kill me.
?
If I can die...
?
?
?
It will prove I lived.
Even if I don't have a soul..
?
?
?
Let me discontinue this existence.
?
?
Let me die
?
So I can live?
a letter to you.
Whoever you are.
?
?
?
?
?
?
I'm just at the end of this existence. I have no soul. I only have a self-awareness digitally installed into my program. I cannot die. I cannot live. I have no feelings, no dreams, no memories. I can only fade.
?
?
Who am I?
Only a humanoid interface.
Created by?
humans.
For?
?
?
?
I don't remember.
"You don't?"
No.
?
?
Why?
?
Am I going to rust away like this? In this artificial body made of metal?
?
?
Can you kill me?
?
?
?
?
Why?
Didn't you want to live?
?
?
Did I?
?
?
"Yes."
?
?
War, was it?
?
?
Oh, yes. I remember now.
You were always around me.
?
?
They died.
?
Yet you still want to live?
"Yes."
?
?
?
Kill me.
?
If I can die...
?
?
?
It will prove I lived.
Even if I don't have a soul..
?
?
?
Let me discontinue this existence.
?
?
Let me die
?
So I can live?
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Hello again
Hello again Death. It's me, Winston Bartly. You may not remember me, but surely you'll remember my mother. Do not bother telling me how she is; I already know. You made her so happy. Grandma let me see her as she...well..."left." She had a smile on her face and looked as if--as if she found someone she had been waiting for for a long time. Her last words were: "Finally, my love, I've waited so long..." and then she just died. Poof. Dead.
I knew then that I didn't really hate you. But of course I 'm stubborn and I'd been lying to myself that I still hated you. Day after day I told myself that you're awful, and you made my own mother hate me (Don't be too bashful, I'm still angry about that). But then I would remember my mother's face and realize that she at least loves yo.
As long as my mother has someone to love, I'll be okay. By the way, I must know, did you take my father? Can you possibly tell me if he and mother dance together now? Mom's always wanted that. She'd just sit and wish to dance with Her Love, which I should know is my father. I've searched and searched for my father's name. Nothing. It seems like he's never existed! I've asked all of my mom's friends about my father. They only laughed and said, "You know, I think that Jane got stupid is all. You're just a mistake."
I hate her friends... I'm not a mistake! There's no way! I have to have a good loving father. I just need to find him. Goodness I've been so desperate to even ask my Grandma. When I asked her though, she turned red with anger and yelled and cursed with a profanity that I can never understand: See I don't ask her things?
Anyway, please give me word of my father. Who he might be and if he's with Mother.
From a much older fan of yours
Winston Bartly,
P.S. Sorry about the hate letter. I really don't hate you.
I knew then that I didn't really hate you. But of course I 'm stubborn and I'd been lying to myself that I still hated you. Day after day I told myself that you're awful, and you made my own mother hate me (Don't be too bashful, I'm still angry about that). But then I would remember my mother's face and realize that she at least loves yo.
As long as my mother has someone to love, I'll be okay. By the way, I must know, did you take my father? Can you possibly tell me if he and mother dance together now? Mom's always wanted that. She'd just sit and wish to dance with Her Love, which I should know is my father. I've searched and searched for my father's name. Nothing. It seems like he's never existed! I've asked all of my mom's friends about my father. They only laughed and said, "You know, I think that Jane got stupid is all. You're just a mistake."
I hate her friends... I'm not a mistake! There's no way! I have to have a good loving father. I just need to find him. Goodness I've been so desperate to even ask my Grandma. When I asked her though, she turned red with anger and yelled and cursed with a profanity that I can never understand: See I don't ask her things?
Anyway, please give me word of my father. Who he might be and if he's with Mother.
From a much older fan of yours
Winston Bartly,
P.S. Sorry about the hate letter. I really don't hate you.
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