An Unfamiliar Corpse: A Journal

Entry By A rattled Little Thing

Of course I do not want to go to that wretched death gathering people call funerals; or to a farm in some misty land to buy the body parts of pitiful creatures.

An astonishing behavioural display; moving mountains for the dead!

Never have I seen such a reclusive group of people make with such haste plans of any kind!

It would be ludicrous to expect some form of courtesy from this band of relatives to refrain from asking me such uncomfortable questions as “do I not want to tag along?”

With my nerves? Perhaps they wish to prepare for another funeral.

It is no wonder I have grown to become such a fragile thing tugging at the last petals of my sanity; they are barely attached to my withered personality as it is!

I sigh. So easily am I rattled. Offended and taken off guard!

What tomorrow is to most is in my mind a bat-swinging apparition in a dark room looking to be the end of me.



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