Posthumously Yours.

Letter 1 - Quantum Quietus

Dear Lilith,

Here we are at last. In two different worlds, two completely unalike destinations.  Yours, one of life, one of chirping birds, glistening drops of dew and charming people, a world of sentience. Mine, of darkness, desolation and nought. My existence rendered to that poorly engraved set of letters on that lonely grave stone, beneath that one maple tree you were so fond of. If you are indeed reading this, you must be knowing that one fact that makes this all the more difficult, the fact that I am no more.

You must be wondering why I am writing to you now, now when you shall see nothing but evidence of who I was  and what my life was, and why I had never tried to talk to you, the only girl whom I had found enrapturing enough to write to even in death.I still remember the day I first saw you, beneath the very same maple tree I am now forever bound to, and I must say, I was intrigued beyond measure. That day had changed everything.

Everyone is queerly curious about life after death.

I never was, for I knew there wasn't one.

But through these letters to you, my Lilith, I shall conquer the very thing that makes us human. I shall conquer death. So promise me, that you shall write back. The letters you shall get from me, were all written while I was still blessed, or as I think, cursed with life. For I, unlike many do not see why people think that life is so tremendously significant. It is in my opinion merely something that keeps us breathing, walking and partaking in all those trivial activities that one is confined to. Life is a restraint. Death, to me however, was an elevation. 

Never once in all those years of being privileged enough to know you had I secured an opportunity to talk to you. And even if I did I couldn't. For I was mute. I was cursed enough to be dumb, forever shrouded in silence, confined in my disability. You must remember the very first time you tried to converse with me. I had walked away in what seemed like cruelty to you, but in actuality was my confusion and misery. My misery at not being able to hear what the beautiful girl in front of me was trying to convey.I must now tell you, that the very memory of your hazel eyes flecked with gold, tearing up at the hurt I had caused you had killed me a billion times before my true death. I now swear to you, that I shall make it up to you.

Now, when I am no more, now in my very quietus I shall write to you and I shall speak to you. And in my deathly silence, you shall find my voice, my love.

Posthumously Yours,

Damien