I don't know where to begin.

Her name was Rose. Or...atleast that what I think it was. A month ago I would have been mortified at the idea of forgetting my daughter's name, but now it seems ordinary. How do I begin this? I'd introduce myself, but that would do neither of us any good. Instead I will just tell you what I can remember, and what I cannot forget.

I always thought I was lucky, born into wealth, married rich, good bill of health. I couldn't even understand the idea of things not working out, because I thought it would work out. No matter what. Back then I didn't know about these things. Back then I don't think I would have cared. I would have laughed at that beggar, ignored the man in the suit, slept through... But that's not what happened. I did change, but my luck didn't, or atleast I keep telling myself that. The truth is, no matter how I'd like to think otherwise; absolutly nothing changed when Rose died. I don't remember exactly what it was, just a few moments of it. Words like "broken bones", "nerve damage" and "unsucessful" bounce around in my head, but don't really help me piece together her death. If she is dead.

It didn't hit me until a week after. I went to the funeral, I cried, I swore, I did everything I should have, but her death didn't hit me. Until that day when I left work late. I don't even remember where I worked, or even... I left the building and walked my usual route, except there were no clouds out that day. But it was dark you see. Dark without clouds. I met a homeless... I can't even remember... I think it was a she... this woman looked at me, didn't say anything. I broke down. It wasn't fair. Why did they take her? She was so young. IT WASNT FAIR. But the woman didn't console me. She simply told me I could save her. She took out a spoon, and put it in my hand. One of those things. She told me if I could find more I could bring her back. From the dead. She said it. Back from the dead. I believed her. Idiot that I was. I didn't leave well enough on its own. So I took the spoon. And I kill- No. I didn't. I don't think I did.

Holders. That's what they were called. Monsters that guarded the things. I'm probably wrong. I never understood them, I never cared too. Ignorance is fucking bliss. To be honest I never even found one of them. I just had the thing the beggar gave me. No more. Nothing special. But he still came for me. This man in a suit. Said he represented some company. He told me that I shouldn't meddle with things I didn't understand. I told him to get out of my house. No. I told him to leave me alone, because I was trying to have a coffee at the park. But I don't drink coffee. I don't think it really matters anymore. I wonder if he knew I'd be like this now. I wonder if he really knew when he winked, and when he handed me the pen. Told me it was another one. Told me to find more. I'm not special. I'm not different. I'm just lucky. Yeah he knew. He must have known. He must be laughing his ass off right now. Fucker. This whole thing is probably his fault. No...it's not...Rose...

The thing he gave me, the pen, it wasn't a gift to me. It was a gift to the darkness. I was just meant to hold it; for only seven hours. Because that night it was gone. If there is one thing I do remember, it is that night. I woke up, sweating. Something told me she was downstairs. Rose. Just getting a midnight snack. But ofcourse she wasn't. But she was. But the room was empty none the less. Till the crack showed up. A hole of blood appeared in the kitchen. Only it was black as tar. I looked closer, but there was nothing on the otherside. But then some...thing came out of it. It watched me. But it took the pen. Didn't touch me. I think. Whatever that creature was, it was nothing I'd ever seen before, or I will ever see again I hope. I woke up that morning with a new feeling. Hate. Was I somebody's pawn? Their game? What the fuck was-

Except it wasn't morning. It's what it is now. The sun is black. The sky is dark red. No one in sight. Mr. Reel was right, it was the end of the game. He knew it was coming to this, and then he... he dissapeared. Maybe like I did? I don't know. But I do. But I can't tell you that yet.

What I can tell you though. Is what I will do. These 'Seekers' are afraid of the Holders and all of their magic powers. But they are afraid of the wrong thing. They should look in their own hands. Those things. I think they know. I think they are laughing. I think they are the real villians here. Playing around with human emotion, human nature just for the hell of it. But I still have the spoon. And I still have blood left, but only enough to end this letter. I think I'm dying. Or being born. I find it funny that I can't tell the difference. Or maybe they are the same. Either way I only have enough blood for the spoon to write:

Rose Im sor

Categories: | The Forgotten and the Unknown |

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