Jan. 28th, 2006

mistersmith_tm: (smith sock puppet)
Dying is a very personal thing. It's also pretty lonely. Just you and your thoughts and the Void. Then nothing. Peace. Quiet. Void.

Unless you're me. Then dying is no different than living. The day to day struggle to survive in a world gone mad. Where you can't trust anyone you meet and no one trusts you. Where only the strong survive. The weak -- and little guys, like me -- are lucky to make it to the next day in one piece. After 15 years of beatings and starving and lost hope, I was done. I was already more dead than alive, anyway. Jumping off the bridge only finished what the Big Death started. I'd probably still be there, too.

Except. Two things happened.

I heard the Voice. That was kind of surprising, since I was drowning and pretty far under. Probably even already dead. I'd never heard that Voice before, but I knew what it was. You can't mistake it for anything else, you know? It was clear about what it wanted, too. "There's work to be done."

"Fuck you!" I said. Or maybe my mind did. But It heard me. "You abandoned us! You let death and terror into the world and now look at us! Look at what we've become!"

"I know, said the Voice. "But I'm back now."

I didn't want to listen. I didn't want to care. But when you're dead . . . well, you're a captive audience.

"My Voice will be heard," It said. "You will be my Voice."

I didn't want to be anyone's Voice. Especially when I'd never been able to find my own after a lifetime of despair and loneliness.

"Let me die in peace," I cried. "Let me do at least one thing right!"

The Voice was silent. But It did something that changed my future forever. Changed me forever.

It showed me Rose.

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July 2006

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