I am plagued by the aches of my years this day. I must get up and draw open the curtains so that the Gods’ light might bless this black place. God’s radiance will not lift the shadows befallen my hindered sight, not today – not ever. But my soul, this fleshy entrapment that keeps it locked here, yearns for the warmth. Where is the boy? He should be here by now; I need him. The light!
Something is wrong. Lives shall be slain, and more death. The bloodshed must not occur, but it is inevitable, unstoppable, immanent, destined.
The boy comes now, hopefully he has brought along my supper as the grumblings hinder my judgment and add yet another ache to keep me lain.
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