A Monika to Remember: you can (not) revise 02

My face hung beaten as I rode Edward down the street. The sun was up high and it's heat was tearing through my dehydrated body. 320 pages and the only important information I could gleam was that her grave was located in Central Park, in a city called New York.

So aside from the destination of food, I had to find this grave. Could this city be New York? I was hopeful for this conclusion but nothing led me to that being the truth. I had to remain skeptical, New York was described in the book as a city filled with people. Wherever I am right now is nowhere close. It's been three days since I've arrived and I haven't met a single other soul. Three days without food nor water...in any case, I need to find something to eat before the population of this city really does hit zero.

I look through a restaurant and only find a walk-in fridge empty.
I ride on Edward. The sun is setting as I stroke his mane, he responds with a weak neigh.

I take a look through an office building, finding empty water fountains and empty vending machines.
I ride on Edward. The sun is setting as I lie my head down on his neck, and take a little nap.

I search through every convenience store on the block. I was met with clear shelves the whole way.
I ride on Edward. The sun is setting.

I break a grocery store window and yet someone must have had the same idea, because there isn't a single crumb to eat.
I ride on Edward. The sun has set at this point.

I went and broke into a whole neighborhood of houses but there was not a single thing to eat anywhere. Out of 27 houses.
I can no longer ride on Edward.

At the last house I walked back to him to find him collapsed on the sidewalk. I knelt down and looked into his deep brown eyes and they still held consciousness, but his breath was slow and labored. I could see his ribcage at this point, but he still had some meat on his muscles.................

I stroked his mane, wondering what I should do. I was no doctor, what could I give him to ail his pain? I couldn't even give him a meal to satisfy his hunger, let alone mine own.

I think the best thing to do is to put him out of his misery. Yes. To relieve him of the struggles of life. He's had a good life, he doesn't need to suffer anymore.

But I can't let this corpse just rot. No way. It would be such a waste. A shameful waste. Disrespectful to his entire life. He came to me to serve, it's only right he serve me one more time. A dish that was well-needed.

I forgot about my vegetarianism at this moment. This was survival. Screw my morals, I couldn't be paying off my debt to this world if I ended up dead from starvation right? aahaahha

.           *thud*
.                         *thud*
.                                            *thud*


I dragged the corpse into the house. I go to the oven and try out the burners on the stovetop. With a few clicks it ignites. I set it to the highest heat. I made the kitchen a mess trying to find some sort of pan to cook the meat on, to no avail. Fuck it! I threw a butchered slab of meat right on the fire, rustic style. The gas fumes were starting to hit me real hard, so I took a step outside. I looked at the splattered ground. I didn't know I had it in me. I went back in after a minute.

All five of my senses were smashing the receptors of my brain, which I was still not used to. The feeling of my stomach bloating from having finally had a meal, the sight of the corpse, the smell of it's blood, the sound of the meat burning and caramelizing, the terrible taste of it without salt.



Oh god, what have I done!?



I had to hold my urge to vomit again, or else everything I did right now would really have gone to waste. I just do my best to run outside of the house which makes my head throb so, and faint outside on the lawn.

I dream of three ghosts, three old friends who scold me for my selfish desires. They mock me for the fate my creator has decided to grant me. Pleading for forgiveness, I know they would understand if they knew what I'd been through. If they knew what I knew. They would have desired the same exact thing. But we weren't even speaking the same language. We were from two different worlds.

I wake up groggy. I get up and put my body back together, noting it's early morning. I take a deep breath and go back into the house, and finish cooking off whatever is left worth scavenging off of the body. Like a vulture I use my knife like a beak and rip the meat off, butchering the skin and hair off like an amateur. I can't even feel bad that I'm losing meat with my cuts, I just grimace that my situation has led me to commit this unspeakable act.

I try to focus on Anon. I just want to find out what happened to him, what his life was like, if I was forgotten for someone else. I just want to live in peace and spend the rest of our days exploring this strange universe together. If I could just meet him, I could break down in his arms and he could reassure me with an embrace. But I hold nothing but a book. I can't even feel the reassuring mane of my faithful steed, only the rough texture of cooked-off remains. I continue looking for Central Park.

I eventually stumble upon a gated forest-y area. I look to the right and left of me and notice this gate extends an extraordinary length. Could this be the fabled park?

It took a day to search through it but I actually found her grave. The only thing left standing from the statue of the gravestone are the boots. They're cute. The inscription of reads "MONIKA August 30th, 2040 - September 22nd, 2108". I get to digging. My body's pleas for rest can not stop me now. But the handle of my shovel knocks the stone, and some rubble crumbles out of the way. I look back at the noise, and I notice that it was covering part of the inscription. I get all of the rubble out of the way, and I drop to my knees. The inscription continued saying:

































 "NAMED AFTER AN ETERNAL LOVE, TO CARRY ON HER SPIRIT"