A Letter to the Church

     “Don’t mess this up, Erva. You’ve got one chance. One chance or you’ll get shredded to pieces.” That one chance is over now. You’ve made a mistake. You felt too many sensations at once, all painful in different ways, stinging and burning and tearing– I should’ve known you weren’t cut out for this.

     You went out of your way to kill those wretches. For what? To protect me? You knew I didn’t need protection. I knew you wanted to prove yourself. When the Wraith got a hold of you, I dropped everything to save you, even though it wouldn't have made a difference.

     Up close, that Wraith reminded me of someone we met. Thinking back on it now, we last saw Auberdine two months ago, said she was going to hunt the Wraith that chewed up her son’s little bones. I think two months is enough time to end up dead. Dead like you. 

     You always came to me, bright and headstrong, always bearing a confident grin. Confident and stupid. I liked that about you, because you were what I could never be.

     The Wraith that pulled the ribbons of muscle to separate your head from your neck looked at me with that eyeless stare. It could feel my blood boiling. It wanted a taste. But, that boiling blood was just an emotion— useless, when my actions betrayed my intent. I wanted to kill that thing. Auberdine. But, I ran.

     Running was my protection. I could run from anything. I’d make it out alive. I couldn’t run from the fact that no one else was like me. You were always so persistent, stubborn. Forcing me to take steps I would’ve never taken without you, like skinning those dead, plagued churchgoers, or jumping across that boundless gap with shards of bloodied teeth and grime below. I was willing to die if it were easier. You weren’t going to let me.

     You were always the one to face anything with that fearless smile. Always willing to prove that you could be by my side, forever. That you were strong. That I was strong too, because to you, me living meant I was strong enough to not die. I’d disagree.

     It’s sad that only now, as I am writing this letter to that safe haven church that adopted you, that I understand what I meant to you. What you meant to me.

     I got chased. The Wraith drooled, dropping heaps of its saliva and your blood into a disgusting mixture on the cement. The smell of it made me vomit that old man’s dog we ate earlier that day. I was trapped into a sewer grate— hiding there, to survive. I needed someone to tell me “let’s go.” I needed someone to tell me to not submit myself to the beast in front of me. Your sudden death affected me more than I realized.

     Getting eaten was easier than walking through the corpses and sludge that clogged up the sewer. It was a quick and easy escape from the cold and hard dread in my gut. I could flee from the repeating image of your face’s skin being fileted like a very good meal of a very good fish on a very good day. Getting killed would relieve me of all my problems.

     However, the thought of you becoming like that poor foolish reaper, Auberdine, was enough for me to try and survive another day. I wouldn’t want you to become a bundle of flesh and meat, bound together like rope. I didn’t want you to break the bond of loved ones, to steal away, when you would’ve never wanted to do that in the first place.

     I know the Incendium Church is your home. You were raised properly, a courageous reaper with a good heart, even if that meant you were stupid. You deserved to live longer than me. Because of that, I’ll survive and carry out your dreams for this god forsaken world. I carry your body today to burn it up. You will stay as Erva Siltholt. You will stay you.

     Even as ashes.