I can remember,
nearly two years ago this coming December,
how I’d shot my good friend Ember.
I shot her in the head,
O, you can only imagine how she bled....
God, Ember, what shall I do?
You were too good for me.
But now the tears have stopped flowing,
and I can plainly see
that your bloody death
was meant to be.
Was it an act of hate?
Maybe it was fate
using her cold, cruel hand
to exact her vengeance on you.
It is now getting quite late,
and I must be gone.
For the night is now ending,
and there appears the dawn.
Streaks of angelic sunlight
slice across the vestiges of the night.
Leaving me sad and sorry to see the night go....
Not for long, I tell myself.
Only for a few hours long.
Then the day shall turn to dark...
night...
coldness...
darkness...
madness....
And finally the madness ends,
and I sit and I cry.
Why? I call out.
Why, Ember? Why did you have to die,
on that cold and bleak day in December?
But my cries go unheeded.
I know she’s listening to me;
I can hear her swift movements
in the blandness of night.
I know she’s watching;
I see her shadow set against a gloomy backdrop.
I know she hungers
for the taste of my blood,
the blood of her killer.
But I shan’t die without a fight!
Do you hear me, Ember?
Heed my warning, girl!
Through all of my pain
and all of my anguish,
I can still remember...
remember...
My dear, dear Ember....
I love you.
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