My Apologies

Oh you dear reader who know so well about the currents and whirlpools of thy soul, how dare I say know me better than I do myself. Allow me to explain the manner of business we have upon are hands tonight. But first may I offer you from my cellar a bottle of wine, something strong and bold to keep the flavor and to guard from the October chill that covers the yonder window.

Yes do let me fetch that for you and to lite a fire in the fireplace, to draw close the heavy curtains and to summon the cook post haste,  now if you will upon yonder table there sit’s a boxes of match’s pray strike them and with the consuming glow that follows lite the wick of a near by candle or too. A little light is good for dark business.

Now I’m sure you have noticed, a slight change in my manners, allow me to say its nothing to be concerned about, I just had to burry my soul upon yonder hill top, for it was old and tired and needed rest, but I like a slave master would not let it rest, I pressed it more and more till the last ounce of strength I had was gone and then it broke, like a chine vase being hit was a soft ball.

Well when a so brakes its quite the hurt, like waves of darkness swept over me and it felt almost like I was sinking into thick quicksand. Please pray relay this message to the others, I’m quite all right physical yes but emotional I’m a storm a wreck,  For a better lack of terms and you must pardon the veracity of this, but in short order I would say, I’M FUCKED UP.

Yes I said it and it feels wonderful I tell you, to be free of the social norms that binds you all day and night. Think for a minute dear reader you’re a bird, flying through the evening sky, surrounded by all the peace of the word, drawing strength from natures love. And then from below there comes a loud boom and the next thing you know is your falling from the sky,  your blinded by pain., bright colors flash before you.

Then your done, your dead and your gone from this word. Your fate is sealed, your only hope is to be plucked and cooked in the stew pot, to then have your tender flesh a eaten by the man that so snuffed out your life flame. Does that not chill you to the bone, does that not shutter your very nerve if not then let us press for I have a confession to make to you.

Now under such normal terms, I’ll seek the old and seasoned wisdom of Father Andrew’s from Saint Mary’s or Father Pendragon from All Saints and Sinners. But at last you see I do fear that they will break there priestly vows and call post hast the police and soon I shall be ferried away in chains.

Now you, my dear reader whom so well know the ever flowing currents of my soul I hold no fear in, for if you do remember correctly there is a fair amount of cash awaiting you once my morbid tale is complete. it’s the least I can do.

Well you will say that my current foul mood will be linked to some events that took place several years ago upon one October night such as this. I remember it was in the twilight of the day as the madness of the fall festival was reaching its zenith.  I by this time was being consumed by a feeling anger toward my co-worker and took that I should remove from the earth one of them.

This one you see, I was very close with.  So close one might call her kin. But when blinded by madness and driven by sheer anger one can perform deeds not normally associated with ones social norm and even a smiling friend can wield a knife behind your back.

But before we go on, please do let me tell you how I was feeling for I’m sure the nay sayers are going to root for the poor now possibly rotten girl, not that they will find her away for I’ve hidden the body well, though I do suppose if one was to tear down every cell in my wine cellar they will find her body by seer process of elimation.


See, I often find myself being FORCED to take a role I hate, simple because nobody really cares, it’s a private problem of mine. I made a promise so long ago. And when given a chance to take a bottom I jump and when such a role is promised upon ones honor I looked forward to it with the same joy a child looks toward Christmas.

Such a chance did present itself to me last autumn in the form of a grand ol’ topping by a dear friend of mine. And such as you the reader knows to my nature I did everything to prove myself to him, I did it all more times than I would like to count. But at last others got the praise and glory I was left in the shadows.

Till finally I was broken, I had nothing else to give and yet I kept on giving till at last the chance presented itself.. And then it was STOLEN by my dear friend. How could only laugh and brat, such a selfish little thing she was… how I felt the fires grow deep within me some weeks later when she in her heart felt manner told me of all her troubles and woes.

I nodded my head and patted her head in a sweet voice I did sing, telling her no harm had been done, that nothing oh sweet nothing this will be come it, all the while my twisted mind did turn over the gears that would bring about her own down fall for somebody must pay, somebody must suffer. Somebody must DIE in order for my soul to cleansed of this mortal sin.

After all, blood does cleanse the body of sin.

 And I have to say that one autumns evening I did pray to call her over. The execution grounds had been made ready some days before and my strength fortified with wine,  I did meet her in the foyer  of my manner and there like a true gentleman I took her coat and hung up.  Once we completed the formal greeting I asked her to sit upon sofa and there I offered her cup after cup of wine. Till she was so overcome