I am dying.  I know it as well as I know the new lines around my eyes and the finer ones around the corners of my mouth.  I know it like the spectre that dogs me every step I take for the past six months, that shadow that won’t go away no matter how bright the sunshine.  No one knows my suspicions, and won’t if I have my way, and I will.  This is between me and whatever remains of the faith I once had.  There isn’t much faith left.  Over the years it has dwindled like the rotgut gin in a hobo’s paper bag. 
How do I know?  I can’t eat, or, I have no desire to eat anything. I realise sometimes that I go all day and even into the next without more than water and the occasional cup of coffee or juice.  It’s not healthy but I don’t feel hungry, and so I just don’t think about it.  I can’t digest much these days anyway and less time feeling queasy is fine by me.
I’ve been thinking about God lately, and whether or not there is such an entity at all.  I lost belief in anything outside of extraterrestrial life, species that still prove their own intelligence daily by avoiding humanity.  The idea that we are not alone in the universes and beyond seems so much more plausible than some God who has been on extended lunch for 2000 plus years.   Still, I hope there is something on the other side, someone waiting to meet me. I hate to travel alone.
I can’t sleep either.   In the worst of my insomnia I still slept a couple of hours a night. It’s been a week now and I haven’t had more than twenty minutes each night.  I’d give anything to not wake up at three each morning drenched in sweat and biting back a scream.  I’d give anything not to wake up feeling ill with my chest locked and tears in my eyes.  I’d like to remember what wakes me in the first place.  I stay away and draw pictures in the air with my mind, eyes drooping closed at exactly 2:40 am and springing open at exactly 3:00 am.
The sky is on fire outside my window and the chill in the air reminds me that it is soon to be autumn again, another season passed bringing us closer to winter.  Closer to the short dark days that I’m not sure I can endure again.  Not that I will be here by then.  Likely as not I will be in another place. 
It occurs that I’ve been pulling away from everyone around me and it makes me a little sad.  Not many need me around these days; kids grow, families change, distance and decisions.  It’s not a bad thing really.  It proves that life will go on as it always has and nothing much will change my world.  There is that niggling uncomfortable feeling again, the one that always has been a precursor to misfortune, and I fight the urge to vomit. 
Today I heard an odd ticking on my nightstand as I cleaned the ashes of my dreams from the floor and try as I may I can’t find the source.  An internal clock or some kind of weird audio hallucination maybe.  It won’t stop but quiets some as the sun goes down, and my heart beats faster.  Time is flying by and the ticking is louder than ever as the clock races towards 2:40 am.  I’m afraid more than ever now, my limbs shaking like a tree in a hurricane. I can’t stay awake.   2:39 am.
The sun is too bright and I raise my hand to shade my eyes, confused. It was dark as Satan’s asshole and then suddenly I’m on the sun.  There is a woman, her voluptuous frame silhouetted by the blinding luminescence.  I can hear her speaking but not the words, and the point is moot when the explosion overtakes all other noise.  My ribs feel like they are glass, shattered inside and the burning pain in my left breast is more than I can take.  She comes closer, her long bare legs scissoring then bending as she places a hot circle on my forehead between my eyes, breathing in a husky, sensual voice, “Time to go home.”
A Matt Farnsworth Film The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Full Fathom 5 Studios
A Matt Farnsworth Film
The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Full Fathom 5 Studios

Matt Farnsworth on Facebook   Matt Farnsworth Films     

“The characters Marcus Miller, and Babysister are owned by  Matt Farnsworth”
©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC
Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC All Rights Reserved

Cover Created by Tim Miller

Slayful Stories Volume 1 is now available for Kindle and in paperback

Coming soon Volume 2 – The Death Maiden Journeys


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