(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

with unease and unexplained pangs of guilt...
~~~~~
"Very good," Fin Andlye smiles. I had repeated the poem. Near-perfect
inflection- yes, yes. His voice is gentle. Kind manner soft gaze. The corners of
his eyes crinkle the way they do when he is impressed skin peeled back into
wrinkled folds.
"Amazing, is it not? To hear it on new lips brings such fresh life to the culture
once again," his voice swells. He is proud, "I have great faith that with your
fluency you'll be able to do many things. Perhaps one day the Uyo can live
again in books and speeches. Perhaps you can pioneer the field."
Need to fake obsequious grin. Cast my eyes downward, act hiding an
embarrassment at high praise. Keep together still need him just a little more
just a little.
Soon, yes soon.
~~~~~
Festhall a mash of colors and textures place too crowded need to find
secluded spot. Sights and scents and sounds too much. Taste the colors, feel
the scents. Rings red and green and the music ever-present haunting the
halls with ghostly echoes. Feast is on tonight, halls abandoned save for the
mindless sensations that fill it.
Silence is best but music helps. Soothes.
Nails dig into my forearms. Carve small half-moon wounds into my flesh.
Hands tremble in determination, gnarled and scarred and wrapped around
Fin's frail throat. Firm cartilage beneath supple flesh and muscle resist
compression. Press him down against the floor and put weight into it throat
crushes against my palms and pressure causes blood to well up in his eyes
burst capillaries.
Gagging sounds sicken me. Shut up old man shut up shut up shut up.
When he is cold and still I crouch next to him trembling at the physicality of
it. Breathe. Safe, finally safe the journal hidden in a thrice-trapped
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