When they bring me my food, I can hear Bertha doing something to it. I wonder what she's going. It sure doesn't taste good. I told them I don't need her to stay with me. I'm OK on my own. But she insists on doing it, even without payment. She claims to love me like her own child. She calls me her son. She says: "Bless you, son." What kind of thing is that to say? She's not even from this country. Or, well, she is, but her parents weren't.
I assume that, anyway. She's ethnic. I don't know if anyone knows much about her background, where she comes from. I never got references for her. She just showed up one day at my door, with the sunlight streaming in around her all warm on my face while she was asking if I needed a housekeeper since I've gone blind. And I did.
If I'd been allowed to give money to Gracie, that wouldn't work out after-all. There wouldn't be enough of it left after these hospital bills for her to give Hoppy his Godly miracle 100,001. Anyone in her shoes would just keep it.
So, it's actually just as well Bertha is going to steal it, I guess. At least she speaks very well of Hoppy. Especially after he shows up and visits her. Or is that just my eyes hallucinating? I don't know any more. It's all the same. I don't even care. Not really. What's life, anyway? Just death hallucinating.
I can hardly hold this recording device up any more. By now, it doesn't matter. No one will see the written diary, no one cares where I want the money to go, and I'm going to die of being poisoned. No one will know it's Bertha doing it, because there's no place to hide this recording device. I only use it when she's gone, but she'll just get it out of the drawer when I die and destroy the evidence.
It's not really evidence. I can't say for certain if she's poisoning me. She could have done it fast if she just wanted to kill me and get more money fast. This way, it's taking up more of it by hospital bills. So, maybe she's just adding salt or sugar or stirring it or something. Maybe I just have gotten a bad taste in my mouth and a bad appetite from having something else wrong.
I just want to know! Come on.
YOU ARE READING
God =100,00O Dollars
HorrorIn this Weird Fiction short story, Frank Hopson records his days in an audio journal, losing track of dates and struggling to decipher what's real and what's a hallucination due to the human brain's common psychedelic reaction to blindness -- it's c...