Reviewers, you are awesome. If you don't know that by now, you are silly. But still awesome nonetheless.
On with the madness.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Thirty-Fifth Waking.
We found a pool of rainwater this waking, and filled our skins. And our bellies. That was early. Now I'm by the fire. Greys is gone ahead to look for ways to go.
My knee is sore. It hurts like knives to walk on it. And when the lightning is close it makes it rattle. And all my arms and legs feel like they burn when I move. Does this happen? Is this normal?
What am I saying? None of this is normal. This is very abnormal. Oh what a well-stocked expedition party would not give to be in my place. Except that there is nothing here. But people still like to explore. To say they have been there, for fame and glory. Well I have been there. I mean I have been here.
What am I talking about? That was strange. Am I in an enviable position? Maybe part of me wants to be happier than I am. That must be it.
We stopped sooner this waking. This walking. This waking of walking. My leg is killing me. So Greys took the lantern, and he found a Stone that would scratch other stones, and he is gone ahead to negotiate with the Rocks. He is marking a way. An arrow for yes, and an X for no.
This is my fault. How much energy is he expending on my account? I can't go up and down the Rocks, risking wrong choices with them. It hurts too much to walk. So Greys said he would go a short distance ahead to mark where we could go in our next waking.
What if he falls?
I shouldn't think about it. I am sure of him. He is a sure man. He is too cautious, too careful. He'll be all right. He won't do anything stupid either.
It eats me up. He is the one getting lost in the Rocks. But he has a Marking Stone, and that is good. He is making the mistakes now, so that I won't have to make them next waking. I told him no, but he told me yes. And he went. But part of me wants to be grateful. But part of me is afraid to be grateful. Is that part the same part of me that's ashamed?
So many parts. Alone and lonely. Afraid for Greys. Grateful for Greys. Mad at myself. Practical reasoning. Needing to write. Laughing at the dark and noise. Going mad and mad again. Wanting to sleep. Fearing death. Laughing at death. Welcoming death. Going on a picnic with death.
Hello, Death. How are you?
All right, now I am frightening myself. And yet I feel unafraid. It just seemed like it ought to be the right thing to say. Or to write.
But I don't feel afraid. Actually it is something new. Something to wonder about, and that makes me feel alive. Even if the subject is Death. Is it irony? I feel alive talking about Death?
Dear Death,
I have never written you a letter before. I don't know if you can understand me. Are you really an entity that comes and visits people, like in the old myths? Do you really come and take people away? Are the people frightened when they walk away with you? Or are you friendly and kind? Do you wear a black robe and carry a lantern?
What? Are you Greys in disguise? He is carrying a lantern. But no, he does not wear a black robe.
I laugh.
Is this what it is like to go mad? It really isn't all that bad. Kind of sad, but not that bad.
And you can rhyme more.
Maybe bards are mad.
That makes me laugh some more.
Wait, does this make me a bard?
I don't know.
Thunder laughs at my joke.
So what is Death?
Is this the land of the dead? Have we walked through Death's home? But people died around us, so we are alive. For I don't think the dead can die again.
The Underworld must be near to Deep Sky. Are we in the Underworld? Where spirits come to sleep? But we are still living. Are the living allowed to be in the Underworld?
Haven't I written about this before? I think I have. Have I?
I don't know.
But I think I should stop. I'm tired. Moons watch over Greys.
Dear family, in case I die, finish my story. I love you.
Alexandro