By the Pricking of my thumbs, is a nightmare I have had for 20 years. Has it come true? In the darkness I hear a sound, a voice calling. I stop to hear the voice cry out, but no one answers. This is stillness, darkness, there is life but beyond what I know it to be. Voices, I hear voices, but no one is there, not really any, not really. I see reflections of the past, but they aren't mine, I see the movement, life and death moments but of whom and why was I brought here? Am I a seer, am I more than just a child?
I wait, I linger.
I mourn my loss, the loss of my soul, the being that I once was. I am the murderer, the cause of the silence, the darkness and yet I cannot change what is before me, I cannot change what I must do, what is inside me, t calls to me in the darkness.
The figure of what was once a man, stands over the beaten and broken body of a woman so harshly battered that one must guess that she was once human, once alive. The face that might had cause a young man to smile, is now torn, bitten by rats, carved by the butcher's knife and now drug to the railroad tracks and discarded.
