Moods


Author: Mick'n'Star.
Please send feedback to micknstar@hotmail.com.

Haunting Ghost | Wasp Thoughts | Autumn Leaves

Title: Moods - Haunting Ghost

Authors: Mickn’Star – micknstar@hotmail.com

Genre: Vignette. Warning death of character.

Synopsis: Remy muses on love and dependence.

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Love is strange sometimes. I sit and ponder on it and I can never get to the point where I understand why exactly it is so strange.

Why do I waste my time in such idle speculations?

I have nothing better to do, nor anything worse to do, for that matter.

Consider me a detached intellect.

If I were to tell you I killed the person I love most in my life what would you think?

That I was some madman, some deranged disgusting killer, a serial killer maybe, obliterating the person I love most over and over again to destroy the fear of being rejected or abandoned again by that person?

Or would you pity me and my unending future of lonliness, grief and pain?

And would I pity me or hate me or be disgusted by me?

But I killed the person I love most in the world, much more than myself, much more than any other god, person or thing I can know or imagine.

And I killed him for love, nothing else.

Which is why I say love is strange.

He didn’t ask to be killed, he didn’t particularly want to die even if people in pain often mistake death for surcease.

I killed him because I am me and he was him.

Because of what we are and what we were.

Right, I know it’s confusing, I am confused as hell, so I better clarify a few points.

I am not a serial killer, no matter what you hear about me, no matter what you think you witnessed and what you think about me, I am not a serial killer.

Yes, I am so calm now and do not rant or rage, but that’s because the moment I killed the person I love most in the world I died as well.

So my calm is not the inability to feel of the serial killer, it’s not a pathological calm, it is the quiet of the grave.

I loved him until my heart creaked with the effort of containing so much love.

I loved him until there was no day or night, no spring or summer, no body or no soul without him.

I was tied to him by ties stronger than any tie the mind of man or gods can invent.

I could not breathe if he was not near me.

I could not eat, or drink, or move, or shit, or piss unless he was with me and gave me life.

And that’s the nub: I could not have life without him.

And that’s why I had to kill him.

If I could not have life unless he was with me, I had only dark periods of not-life to expect.

If I could not have life without him I could not have death, only not-life.

I had to kill him in order to die.

Because I could not live anymore like a ghost in a haunt, but, like a ghost in a haunt, I could not have surcease in death.

He would not allow me to die because he loved me.

His love was so much saner than mine and so he never fully understood what it meant to me to be so tied to him.

I begged him, please believe I begged him to let me end this intolerable ghost existence.

But he couldn’t understand because being a ghost was as alien to him as letting me die because I loved him.

He was too real too solid too flesh made to be flesh to understand my ghost’s fears and pains.

He tried, oh God, believe me in this because it’s true! He tried with all his might to understand me and help me and give me freedom.

But when he went away I simply ceased to exist, the ghost of a ghost in a deserted haunt.

I had to look for him and find him and get some sort of existence from him again.

And he, poor man bewildered and hurt, came back to be haunted because he didn’t know anymore what else to do.

And I had to kill him.

Because I wanted him free from my haunting and there was no other way.

Had I been alive, I would have been able to let him go in peace and never hurt him anymore.

But I was not alive, I could not be alive unless he was with me and held me in his arms and made love to me.

Then life coursed into my veins and I could breathe and eat and shit and piss and do all the things the living do.

So now I wait and ponder on the strangeness of love while I wait for justice to put an end to this ghost of love.

It will never be too soon for me.

Without Logan I have no life anyway.




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