I am a rational man. If you question me, I can discern good from evil, and tell you with certainty that the sun will rise in the east. Yet over my soul hangs an irrational feeling of dread.
The reason is simple enough, but I cannot fight the insidious fear threatening to paralyze my very being. Correspondence from Evil Editor is due, and a cold chill has settled over my heart. I wait numbly to receive my fate. No solace do I find in an empty mailbox, only an unreasonable fear that leaves me powerless – horrified by the thought of Evil Editor’s response. I am clever enough, and talented, but nonetheless a fool. My most fervent dreams and deepest desires rest on the whim of an evil man. A cruel man. A wicked man. A man with mutton-chop sideburns.
Offer me not your platitudes.
Of soothing sleep you must not speak,
for torments dark my soul does keep.
Damned or no, I face the fight,
lying sleepless, night by night,
struggling to find respite.
Darkness magnifies the Hellish horrors in my mind’s eye, eating at my very sanity. Deathly late, the barest whisper of an idea creeps into my head. It seems a crazy thought, offering a simple solution to my dilemma. I ponder it long, testing every angle and exploring every weakness until, at last, I begin laughing uncontrollably, pulling madly at my hair, such that you might wonder if I am sane. But sane I am, and now glean the road to my salvation.
In frenzied state, I rise, rushing madly downstairs to consummate my plan.
The deed is done. Spade in hand, I dance barefoot in the moonlight. “Free! Free!” my soul cries out in exaltation.
Entombed underground, its cruel power already fading, lies my mailbox.