I woke up as dreary as the morning.
I feel like a murderer.
Every day, for a lot of days, I purposed to killed anything that moved. If it showed signs of life, it had to die. I choked out many things, to the point of death. Some I just put a gun to and blew far far away. And my heart…what a horrid crime scene. Every assault imaginable, I inflicted, in hopes that it would cease to beat. But that vile and lovely thing wouldn’t die so easily. Maybe I have not the power to kill something that lives for another realm.
I’ve raged with fevered anger that could burn down houses. Maybe a city block, even. And I burned myself right down to charred stubble — a heap of remains only suitable for haunts. They echo from beneath torched floorboards.
Damn that raven and his protagonist reels! I’ll kill him, too, if I can find where he taunts me from.
But there’s another ghost here, and he haunts me harder than any embodied terror. And no matter where I attempt to hide myself, he’s ever before me. I’m now the hounded, and I fear there is no escape for me. He is relentless in his soul stalking. The hotter I burn, the nearer he draws. He’s like water to my flame, and the more I thrash and gnash, the thicker he hovers. I blow smoke at him, but he only sees me more clearly.
How do I kill something without a body? How do I strangle this force that renders my grip limp and lifeless? Maybe I’m the dead one. Maybe he’s more alive than all my anguish and hatred is. I just know he won’t let me be, no matter my scare tactics. He’s simpyly not afraid of me, and that terrifies me the most.
Now I’m just a little one, in a big burned house, hiding between blackened beams that do not conceal me. And that ghost comes closer than my skin and whispers words that disarm my dagger hands. He pierces me instead, and out flows all the pain and fear and bad blood. It hurts for just a moment, but then it soothes me. I’m emptied of all the elements that once fueled my fight. Just as quickly as it ebbs out, he fills me right back full of something different. Something better. Things that are useful and hopeful. Holy things that don’t turn on themselves or others. Loving things that don’t kill or destroy. And I just let him because I’m no match for this immortal spirit. Nothing I spew will deter him. Now I’m the house he haunts, forevermore.