God’s Work (1000 Victims Saved)

“I can only live this life as best I can. I am a flawed human and the world will soon know it.“

 

Don’t worry it’s only a good portion of the world. It’s just the majority that’s out to get you. They want to eat your flesh and dance in your blood. It’s only the sons and daughters of Mother Nature, your siblings that want you dead. They want you mutilated. They want your blood to mix with the dirt underneath their finger nails as they dismember you with their bare hands.

 Like I said, don’t worry. There is good news. You are not the lowest man on the food chain. You have brothers and sisters below you; men, women and children that you can slash and stab at with dull rusty weapons. You can open them up and remove their guts and keep them for yourself, smear their blood on your face like war paint, all while growling and hissing at the world. Go ahead and crack their skulls like hard boiled eggs, eat their intellect, consume their experiences and wash it down with the urine left in the bladder.

 Do God’s work.

 

Their blood is slowly seeping through the ceiling, maybe the attic was a bad choice. They need to go somewhere though and that seemed like the most logical place when this all started. Can you believe it’s been a year? Almost a year and 1000 victims saved. I know I could have done better but it’s hard to find the motivation. I’m tired all the time. I don’t sleep much anymore. It used to be the vile, putrid smell that kept me awake but I’ve grown use to that. It’s the cough that I’ve developed that keeps me awake at night now. It must be from black mold that has been flourishing on all the damp blood stains on the ceiling and down the walls. The sounds have also been keeping me awake. I can hear the maggots feasting on the rotting flesh while the bones shift and settle. The maggots are the worst part of this mission. I can’t eat potato salad anymore because the sound of the maggots is the same thick, wet, mushing sound as stirring together potato salad. Not that I have much of an appetite anymore which I think is another side effect of the mold.

I’m glad to have finally received a response; I know you were probably just busy with the mission. I must admit that I was worried that I wouldn’t hear from you. I feared that you had been captured or worse. I could not be happier to hear that you are well and in good spirits. I’m really impressed that you filled both your attic and your basement and that you’ve started filling your living room. It’s impressive but risky so please be careful. I’m going to have to cut this short, the sun is setting and I must hit the streets. As you would say “I have to go do God’s work”. I look forward to hearing from you again; this is a lonely mission we are on.

Be strong, be safe, your loyal friend and follower.

 

(I’m not sure where I’m going with this. It’s maybe something worth expanding on though.)

 

 

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