**Clamavi ad te Domine**

Hi.

The beast of the bog has knocked on my door today. He smells like foxberry. He came after me. Farewell.

The old door is open again—one last time. Some of you have asked me about my childhood and old friends, but I could hardly remember anything. It’s as if I was only born to get stuck in this damn bog surrounded by nothing. As if it really is an afterlife. Perhaps that is why Dad refused to look for me despite my pleas.

Forgive me. My trick has failed, and all you got were sappy dramas of a cowardly girl that weren’t even written for you. My disease is lethal though, I know that for sure, so this reading may be of some use for you. You will also die, after all.

I keep forgetting that for some reason.

Goodbye. I’m leaving now. Hopefully I’ll be lucky enough to become a beast myself. Or a crowberry. That’s what “Voronika” means after all.

Voronika,
http://feverishfeeling.com

P. S. There’ll be nothing more after the signature.