I'm coming home soon but they don't know that...
back to reclaim what's rightfully mine. My bed and my woman, and my old life.
but all of my old demons are still there, and I can feel them whenever I think
of my brother and Sarah, and how things might not be so easy to put back to
normal. That would make me so terribly angry, but hopefully it won't happen.
hopefully this tragic fairy-tale will still have a happy ending and I know that
they'll all be terribly surprised to see me... after all, it has been six months
since I committed suicide...
In The Water:
was still in the chair in the corner, arms thrown round to his head like a
cocoon, his legs drawn up on either side of his body. He looked frozen, and I
wasn't totally sure he was breathing. Surely he hadn't frozen to death? The room
did stink... of rot and decay, but I'd put that down to it being so old and damp
and unlived in. I wandered over slowly, noticing the ever-present glass beside
his chair. It was empty of course. I wondered how much more of the water he'd
drank before finally falling asleep. What I saw when his head snapped up and his
eyes fastened upon me scared the shit out of me. His skin was yellow, almost
luminous in the gloomy dark of the room - the skin stretched tight over his
bones. His eyes looked pale and distant, his hair thin and lank. Whatever had
caused it the fact was that Gary was ill.
walked long and desolate streets among houses made of bone, behind whose windows
burned endless fires. A huge moon hung low in the sky, blood red and so enormous
that only a quarter of it was visible to them, its craters forming faces that
screamed silently into the cold, limitless void of space. They passed a house
where dead bodies were being flung from one of the upper-floor windows to land
on a pile that reached nearly as high. Rogers glanced towards them, and was
inexplicably saddened to see all the corpses had featureless expanses of flesh
where their faces should have been. At his side, Depression sighed mournfully.
Something stalked along the street, like a robed figure but with legs taller
than trees. As it strode past, it reached into a bulging sack which it carried,
and scattered human hearts down onto the pavement like seed. They melted into
the concrete, and things began to grow from them; but Depression tugged at his
hand to hurry him along. ‘Don't look back.’ It growled.