For Thy Peace, My Soul

25.

Fredrick, you wretched brute! You sneak and stalk about the shadow of a man, huffing fiery sulfur puffs of breath to set their hairs on end and watch them scamper. What cruel games you play with weeping mothers and fathers, lovers and friends. You carouse on their tears and dance to the song of their sorrow.

I cannot partake in your joy.

Don’t reach with eager hands for mine. Do not simper then beg for my attendance at your revels; though you drag me away in spite of my protests. It’s not as if I have a choice. Eternal companion to Death, I must partner with you until I’ve drank my fill of this putrescence of life.