Horror · Short Story · Writing

Diary Entry 5

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12-11-16

I understand now.

Rich clarity at last, after so long, being so tired, so weak. Frail and deluded in my waking mundane chores that I was stupid enough to call living.

He wasn’t watching. He was waiting. Hoping. Testing and guiding. Clever and patient and unyielding.

That beatific face, the frozen mien of a vassal of the Red King Of Rime and Frost. Oh, how unworthy I was at first. How blind.

This is how the natural world works. His world. Their world. We are allowed to live here, and now and again we are gifted glimpses—parted veils revealing the sublime mechanics of blood and bone that form the firmament of reality.

I’ve been so gifted, and invited. I’ve been honored to come before that Red King.

Pushed and prodded beyond the wall of exhaustion, beyond what the unknowing consider sanity. I am bathed in a cold so pure that I have arrived again at warmth. The circle is closed, and I get it. I have a complete grasp on WHY. Words can not capture this revelation. Words are for the unknowing. Words are limited and weak.

I’ve been made whole and strong, broken to the point where something new is left behind.

He was waiting, hoping, and his subtleties have been rewarded. I am ready.

But I won’t be kneeling alone. I won’t fail this last charge of fatherhood, of being a husband. It would dishonor him.

I hear the car in the driveway. Happy voices. Unknowing voices.

There are no Gods that will forgive me.

I am so very happy.

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