The Utterance of Insanity

The Utterance of Insanity

I began to write my story. The characters were something peculiar. My story is of a true tale, where the man loves a woman and wants to see her, but cannot remember where he put her body. He just wanted to see her again, but couldn’t. I had been working on my works for months on end and was nearing a close when the utterances accelerated.

The man in my story began to speak to me. When he gave a command, I accomplished it. 

My daughter likes to cry, and at dawn, I was given the command to silence her, forever. He told me to dispose of her in the woods beyond my abode, and so I did. Later that night, right at dusk, I grabbed my golden dagger, with a serpent engraved around the handle, and proceeded to do my God-given duties. I slithered along from the shed to the porch, and from the creaking steps of the porch, into the living room. 

My daughter’s mother died from the orders of the utterance as well. The difference between my daughter and my wife is that I was ordered to make my wife suffer an unfathomable amount of pain and agony. 

I began to think about my wife, and how I longed to hold her again. I was ordered by the man to bury her alive after I tied her together with sharpened barbed wire. It was the beauty in the pain that inspired me to write my story. Her screams filled me with excitement, knowing that I had achieved what the man from my story wanted. 

Days after doing as I was told to do so to my wife, I proceeded to complete the task I was recently given. The dagger felt cold in my hands, and my body weight felt heavier with each step. Why was I feeling this way? I felt as if this was ... wrong. If this is wrong, why would the man tell me to do it? 

In spite of my thoughts, I trod forward. I moved up the stairs into the room of my daughter. She was peacefully asleep. Her one hand was tucked under her beautiful face, and the other was underneath her pillowcase of silk. She looked so relaxed and calm. I haven’t seen her in this much serenity in a long time. 

As the utterance kept pressuring me to finish my task, I slowly inched forward. I kept getting closer and closer to my daughter, to her in her most vulnerable state. She was helpless, weak, and innocent, yet I must finish. I finally was less than three feet away from her and raised my dagger. I stood over her and evaluated my options. The first option is to do as the man said, and kill her. The second option is to walk out and ignore it, but have to face the wrath of the man. The final option was to dispose of the man and my story that I worked so hard on and never do this again. 

I decided to take a walk to think about my options. As I glided along the winter forest floor, I approached a tree. This magnificent oak tree was wrapped in barbed wire. I touched it and it immediately drew blood. A drop of my red DNA fell onto the ground, right under a large branch of the barbed-wired tree. I moved the minuscule layer of snow off of the ground beneath me and smelled something foul. I dug into the frozen ground with much effort and found her. There she was, in all her beauty, my wife. I hugged her lifeless, decaying body, and placed her back into her resting place. The barbed wire around her cut into my chest and stomach, but that’s okay. I got to see my wife again.

Seeing her reminded me of what I must do.

I ran back towards the house and towards my daughter. I reached for the dagger in my belt and took it out of its sheath. I sprinted up the stairs and into her bedroom. There she still lay. 

I raised my dagger, finally ready to finish this. 

I raised the blade, turned it around, and thrust it into my heart. Everything went black. 

Here I am, dearest daughter. I am still here. If you look closely you can find me. In the corners of the darkened halls, behind you, as you walk up the black stairways, and standing at your bedside while you sleep, I am there, always. 

I wonder how you felt after waking up to my lifeless, bloodless body lying on your floor. Luckily for your sake,  I will never ever leave you again. I will always be here, my dearest daughter.

-Ylime Leon