Volume V: The Tragic End of Treason

Chapter 10. High-Wire Escape Artist

To Whom It May Concern:

            Or, whoever’s left standing.

            The whole idea of life is living it. You have to hurt, suffer, live...you have to experience everything. You can’t claim you’ve been there if you haven’t. You can’t claim you’ve done it if you haven’t. It’s an experience-oriented type of thing. You just have to do it. No matter what.

            And yeah, I know it hurts. I know it’s hard. You get bumped and jostled and you cry and you bleed and in the end, you’re going to die.

            But wasn’t it a hell of a trip getting there?

            And how many other people could honestly sit back and claim that they did it the same way you did? None.

            No, I don’t have any remarkable talents that’ll land me a job anywhere I stagger into. But I’m human, I’m young - I can learn. I can change and adapt and try. That’s the real bottom line, that’s the most anybody can ask you to do - try.

            There’s hope and there’s effort. Anything else is a waste.

            What about love?

            Well, what about it?

            It’s great, it’s wonderful, and it’s called - necessity.

            What about devotion?

            They’re all nice ideas, but how many people can honestly make them work? How many cases have there been where these things were tried and true?

            But then again, I’m lying.

           

            Once upon a time.

            If anybody ever tells you that they don’t believe in Love, you tell them about the Damned.

            If anybody ever tells you that they don’t believe in Devotion, you tell them about the Unforgiven.

            If anybody ever tells you that they don’t believe in Friendship, you tell them about the Forsaken.

            If anybody ever tells you that they don’t believe in Fairy Tales, you tell them about the Legends.

            And if anybody ever tells you that they don’t believe in Family, you send them to me. And I’ll tell them about them.

            The Nolans. The James. The Riddles. The Rileys. The Radleys. The Merricks. The Crowes. The Drakes.

 

            And the Ransoms.

 

            I have a new beginning to set out on. Sorry to run off, but you know how it is. Time’s fleeting, it’s not worth it to waste a moment.

            I packed my bag, and in it, my madness and misery. I shouldered my material life, as well as the psychological. I packed up everything I possessed, including the scattered pieces of my sanity, and I left. I could go anywhere, do anything. I could take back the stories if I so wished, start another crusade, preserve my brother’s memory.

            But at this point, why?

            With me goes all things. I take with me the end of ends.

            It’s been a long trip. I’m cold from the sting of it, but yet, I still breathe. Remember me, remember us. Maybe I’ll see you again in another time and place. Perhaps.

            My life on my shoulder, my heart in my head, and I’m off to start a new life because the old is long since dead.

            This’ my confession, this is my willing embrace; I’m leaving society to disappear without a trace.

            Should I be sorry? Will I miss this cold place?

            I doubt my return. But it’s a possibility - should that be the case.

            We are the Timeless.

            The Martyrs.

            Thanks. And don’t ask what for. Just thanks.

           

            Sincerely,

            The Forsaken, the Unforgiven, the Damned, the Shadowy Legends, and the Tragedies.

            And the forever constant Cycle.