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 Moratorium

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whilaroo

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Posts : 130
Join date : 2009-12-24
Location : I'm in Brooklyn on a Halloween night...

PostSubject: Moratorium   Tue Nov 30, 2010 9:59 pm

Is this what it feels like? Dying? I can't feel anything any more. The illness has spread far and wide, wreaking its havoc on my nerves, but the agony is gone. I look down at myself, for I cannot do much else in my current state, I am most sad to inform you, and I see the remains of a metallic body. How is it that it could not save me from this? The Machine itself failed to sustain my life, and now I cannot even feel the cold and mechanical extremities which have replaced that which was. I feel so terribly tired, so terribly abandoned. My dearest Evelyn, I find it an incredible struggle even to find the strength to write to you as I am now doing, and yet I am compelled. I feel that it is the only thing which shall keep alive, if not in body then in mind. The doctors would be furious to find me so taxing myself, but I already know the truth that they so avidly deny. I will die. It is inevitable now. Forgive me the quality of my writing, I beg of you. I cannot feel my hand upon the pen. I miss you so terribly, My Sister. Although, at the same time, I could not possibly sanction you coming to visit me. If you were to become sick because of me... I could not allow God himself to forgive me for that. But your letters, and the flowers you sent me, they do more for me than all the medicine that my fellow priests have administered. I feel terrible for Gerald. He has tried everything that he can think of and even called for a physician who was deep afield to come home, a rather large favor as I understand it, and still the combined minds of the medical staff and this specialist have only found that the disease has no cure. It is horrifying news for many. There are others here, not many, thank God, but... about five, each with families. It isn't spreading any farther than that, and no one has any idea why we were stricken in particular. If I'm honest, I think that I'm ready, even after all this time. I overheard one of the ladies in attendance here speaking with Gerald as he came in to see me. He is a good friend and comes often despite his incredibly overbearing schedule. She spoke of how heinous it is that someone as young and talented as I should have caught this malady. It seems that most of the others are more elderly. That reminds me of the strangest event... I... Forgive me, I must rest.

My hand is grown infirm, shaking about and rendering the pen useless. I have asked Gerald to take down what I say to him, and he dutifully acquiesces, lending his much more talented hand to my voice. I beg your forgiveness with my most sincere apologies, my sister, for not having written to you sooner in this trying time. Such a lapse is especially remiss after that terrible tease I gave you in the last letter's end. Very well, the tale transpired thus, for I shall attend to it first and dwell more upon pleasantries after, so that my voice does not give out before its end: I was walking in the garden, this was several weeks ago, you understand, before the disease had so throughly confined me to my bed. It was on the southern roof. Oh the flowers were beautiful, and beautifully kept. I was daydreaming as you know I am apt to do, thinking of a student of mine. The poor boy, when last I had seen him, he was being whipped rather severely by one of the tutor's for having gone galavanting about whilst he was supposed to be in his lessons, a lad after my own heart. My mind was undoubtedly drawn to him because of my own truant action. By rights, all patients were to be abed at that hour. So I doubt very much that I was meant to witness what I did. Infirmity not having taken me quite so powerfully, my hearing was able to pick up the sound of voices from the small courtyard within. Rushing to garden's edge, really it was more like creeping for although I was stronger I was still quite weak at the time, I espied two individuals. I could swear that one of them was the Lord Gamaliel of the Holiest of Holies. The other was a young man, dark haired, and possessed of an apparently errant disposition. They fought over the most curious of subjects. It seems that the boy had run an errand of some kind, but had allowed a critically important package to go astray. In any case, the young man glanced up at the roof, as if he were looking straight at me. I grew nervous of his gaze, so distant from and yet still so intense. Thus did I retreat backwards. It occurs to me now that the happenstance was not so odd a thing after all, and yet... It's memory remains with me still.

Dear Ms. Donevitsch,

It is my deepest regret to inform you of the death of your brother, Matthias. He was a good man and a good friend. Many shall mourn his passing. With your permission, it would be our greatest honor to have his remains interred here, within the walls where his heart and his mind were so free and had such incredible effect. I am aware of several letters that he wrote to you prior to his passing. They are here with me, along with his other belongings, which I will hold until instructed otherwise by either you or your counsel. I'm so sorry, Evey...

Your Friend,
Gerald Fontain
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