Cicada Hello my family and friends, I’m going to explain…
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Cicada
Hello my family and friends,
I’m going to explain how my death came about. I want everyone to know that this is what I want to do, and that my wife should not be held responsible. This is just how life plays out, and my life is needed for a higher purpose. For the sake of my child, do not hunt my wife.
My wife, quite frankly, is everything to me. I know most of you haven’t seen her much, so I suppose it is only right to explain our story, that way you can understand my choice.
It was my eighteenth birthday party, and it was a sight. Gold streamers everywhere, silver balloons filling the roof of a great hall, and an ivory tower of a cake. I barely remember all that though, because that’s when I saw her.
Can anyone imagine the depth of my love in that moment? Could I begin to describe her beauty? I don’t remember anyone else’s face that night except for hers. She took my hand and we danced until my feet blistered. She got so worked up that her nails ripped at my wrists, God bless her. The feeling of bliss I experienced when her fingers dug under my skin was intoxicating. I knew I had to marry her.
We got wed that next week. It was a private ceremony, and I don’t believe that most of you realized it had happened. She insisted that we keep our affairs to ourselves, and I think it was very sensible. She picked out a beautiful cottage in the countryside, and her fingers were under my skin when we went through the threshold. My darling.
There we have lived for sixteen years. It has been the most peaceful, most beautiful existence a man could hope for. I leave for work, working my light-less career, only to quickly run home to see my beauty. She keeps our home clean, she has the food always prepared, and she keeps herself so beautiful. So beautiful. I can scarcely envision any other face. I can barely picture her face now, except the fact my heart leaps with love when I try.
Our sex life is healthy, I’ll have you know. The lights are off nightly, and such she is on top of me nightly. I hate to kiss and tell, but a man can’t help but brag. She is quite passionate. If someone were to see me without a shirt on it would look like I was recovering from quite the whipping. She treats me kindly, with fingers under my skin, flooding me with calm and bliss. The way she makes me feel every night.
Well, our domestic schedule was broken eight months ago. She informed me that she was pregnant over dinner, and I was so delighted that I could’ve danced. Over the next months our nightly routine slowed down, but she still flooded me with love as we held each other close. She cried often.
It was a month ago she revealed herself to me. Under the candlelight of a romantic dinner, she told me about herself. It had dawned on me, in a brief doubt, that I realized that she was the only person I could picture in my mind. She was the only person I knew anymore. So, imagine my joy when she confided in me about her true self. The love of my life, opening herself up to me.
When she opened her face, I cried. Split down the middle like a curtain revealing an unknowable, horribly wonderful sight. My life itself, devoted to this woman, seemed right. Her mouth was running the wrong way. Her eyes that blinked all over her forehead. Her chest was hollow and her stomach was clear. I could see our little man. For the first time in many years, I cried. I wept with love and, sadly, fear. I was scared of how much I loved her.
My wife explained that, when it was time, our child would be implanted into me. His birth would be internal, and he would consume my strength to grow. I would die, and I was happy. So happy. To be like Zeus, birthing my son from my body.
I will not die, but I will live on through my son. I imagine he will be just as beautiful as my wife, my world. Do not blame my darling. It is the way she is wired, and she can’t help it. I am willing to give up everything for her, and if you value me, you will respect that. I love you all, but I love her most.
Sincerely,
A devoted husband and father.
\*This letter was found in the cottage of Truman Chute. His body was decomposing, having died approximately three days before discovery. His skin showed signs of severe abuse, mainly digging and scratching. A significant amount of his internals were missing. His ribs were broken from the inside, leaving a large hole in his torso. There is no legal record of a spouse. The investigation is still underway.\*
#entertainment
source
Hello my family and friends,
I’m going to explain how my death came about. I want everyone to know that this is what I want to do, and that my wife should not be held responsible. This is just how life plays out, and my life is needed for a higher purpose. For the sake of my child, do not hunt my wife.
My wife, quite frankly, is everything to me. I know most of you haven’t seen her much, so I suppose it is only right to explain our story, that way you can understand my choice.
It was my eighteenth birthday party, and it was a sight. Gold streamers everywhere, silver balloons filling the roof of a great hall, and an ivory tower of a cake. I barely remember all that though, because that’s when I saw her.
Can anyone imagine the depth of my love in that moment? Could I begin to describe her beauty? I don’t remember anyone else’s face that night except for hers. She took my hand and we danced until my feet blistered. She got so worked up that her nails ripped at my wrists, God bless her. The feeling of bliss I experienced when her fingers dug under my skin was intoxicating. I knew I had to marry her.
We got wed that next week. It was a private ceremony, and I don’t believe that most of you realized it had happened. She insisted that we keep our affairs to ourselves, and I think it was very sensible. She picked out a beautiful cottage in the countryside, and her fingers were under my skin when we went through the threshold. My darling.
There we have lived for sixteen years. It has been the most peaceful, most beautiful existence a man could hope for. I leave for work, working my light-less career, only to quickly run home to see my beauty. She keeps our home clean, she has the food always prepared, and she keeps herself so beautiful. So beautiful. I can scarcely envision any other face. I can barely picture her face now, except the fact my heart leaps with love when I try.
Our sex life is healthy, I’ll have you know. The lights are off nightly, and such she is on top of me nightly. I hate to kiss and tell, but a man can’t help but brag. She is quite passionate. If someone were to see me without a shirt on it would look like I was recovering from quite the whipping. She treats me kindly, with fingers under my skin, flooding me with calm and bliss. The way she makes me feel every night.
Well, our domestic schedule was broken eight months ago. She informed me that she was pregnant over dinner, and I was so delighted that I could’ve danced. Over the next months our nightly routine slowed down, but she still flooded me with love as we held each other close. She cried often.
It was a month ago she revealed herself to me. Under the candlelight of a romantic dinner, she told me about herself. It had dawned on me, in a brief doubt, that I realized that she was the only person I could picture in my mind. She was the only person I knew anymore. So, imagine my joy when she confided in me about her true self. The love of my life, opening herself up to me.
When she opened her face, I cried. Split down the middle like a curtain revealing an unknowable, horribly wonderful sight. My life itself, devoted to this woman, seemed right. Her mouth was running the wrong way. Her eyes that blinked all over her forehead. Her chest was hollow and her stomach was clear. I could see our little man. For the first time in many years, I cried. I wept with love and, sadly, fear. I was scared of how much I loved her.
My wife explained that, when it was time, our child would be implanted into me. His birth would be internal, and he would consume my strength to grow. I would die, and I was happy. So happy. To be like Zeus, birthing my son from my body.
I will not die, but I will live on through my son. I imagine he will be just as beautiful as my wife, my world. Do not blame my darling. It is the way she is wired, and she can’t help it. I am willing to give up everything for her, and if you value me, you will respect that. I love you all, but I love her most.
Sincerely,
A devoted husband and father.
\*This letter was found in the cottage of Truman Chute. His body was decomposing, having died approximately three days before discovery. His skin showed signs of severe abuse, mainly digging and scratching. A significant amount of his internals were missing. His ribs were broken from the inside, leaving a large hole in his torso. There is no legal record of a spouse. The investigation is still underway.\*
#entertainment
source
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