I feel like it is the right time to recall the prayers of our past.
I feel like it is the right place to recall the prayers of our past.
It has been countless days within the year after the trial.
It is Conor's nineteenth birthday.
We didn't celebrate last year, because we were all so caught up in the hallucinations and the doomsdays.
Well, this year is going to be much different from last year.
July 8th, 2020.
I used to say he was born exactly one month, after my birthday.
Based on the newly introduced fact, that I was in fact, born back in 1918; here's the new, and improved announcement:
I tried out the math and got this:
2020-1918=0001
And this:
1918+2020=3938
Neither of those seems correct.
And then I did the basic five in a row tally mark thing; starting at 1918 and stopping at 2020, I got 102.
Poor Conor.
I am exactly 102 years, and one month older than him.
Age gap alert much?
His nineteenth birthday.
We are in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.
The virus is called COVID-19.
It started in Wuhan, Hubei Providence, China, on December 12th, 2019.
As far as we all know; none of us have it.
Yet.
Still no vaccine made.
Yet.
These prayers are not only for me, the ones I love, and the ones I've lost.
They are also for the ones connected to the virus, and they are for the hallucinations, though I hate them, very dearly, but with all my heart, I do respect them.
They are a part of me.
They always have been.
And always will be.
I have inhaled and exhaled these prayers since June 8th, 1918.
And I will exhale them until June 8th, 2071.
Yes, I have seen into the future.
Too far beyond one's eye, to unsee what my line of sight has been caught into.
Far enough to my death.
Far enough to the grave.
My tomb.
Yes, dear reader, I will die at age 90.
Not too old, and not too young.
As you might expect, I do not pass away from a hallucination like dear Kathy suffered from.
I simply pass away in my sleep.
Peacefully, from old age.
Beside Conor, without a care in the world.
Conor dies beside me.
What are the odds?
Our children, and our grandchildren are growing up before our eyes, too fast to even imagine.
YOU ARE READING
Hallucinations (rewriting post-physical publication)
Mystery / ThrillerThe night of the accident changes everything for Nina, a 16-year-old girl from Minneapolis. All she remembers is hitting the freshly paved street, the name tag Ansley, and her mom running after the wailing ambulance. Waking up from a coma in a hospi...
