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I sit here by the fireplace wallowing I guess what would be called self pity, because I lost you, the love of my life. You were picked to go on an unknown journey with the grim reaper. Now I feel totally lost without you, you were everything to me. My whole life was surrounded around you.
Our family is with me as they were called because of your departure and to make sure of my needs They are very worried about me, as I didn't take your departure very well. I can't sleep and I have no desire to eat. All I can do is think of you and our life as it was. We have a family mausoleum on the grounds, so I can pay my respects whenever I like, but I just can't see you. Just the thought of you being so close, makes me want to run to your grave, pull you out and tell you this devastating thing isn't true. It keeps entering my mind, to get you out and shake you until you come back to life. The reality is you are really gone, no matter how hard I try to fool myself. Reality, knowing no one has ever came back from the den of the grim reaper, except in the Bible. So we are separated by space and time. I will never see you or touch you again until the grim reaper comes for me.
I hear your father call my name from the other room. In a way he sounds hysterical. So, I leave the comfort of the fireplace to see what on earth has him so worked up. I get to the room he is in, and he stands before me as white as a sheet. He is even crying. What on earth could have caused such an out burst of emotion?
I am a man of means, so I have a maid and a butler. So I ask the butler to bring you a brandy. I will use this to help me calm you down. In this room the windows are very large, so you actually can see all the grounds from here.
The butler brings me the brandy, I then hand it to you as we sit on the couch. You take a big gulp of the brandy, as you try to calm yourself down. You then look at me, teats steaming down your face and you say," I saw her!" This just can't be true, it must be some kind of illusion manifested by your grief. No matter how I wish this were true, there is no possible logical way.
As I look through the large windows all I see are the grounds. very calm, nothing stirring. I put my arm around him, trying to persuade him it had to be his mind playing tricks on him. You apologize to me, saying this must seem really absurd. You then excuse yourself and retire for the night. I decide I will stay here for a while as I too have a brandy.
Sitting on the same couch as your father did, I know now what he meant. I look up and what I see just can't be. There you are in front of me, as you were floating on air itself. I have to rub my eyes to make sure what I am seeing is true. Through the window, you look as elegant as the day you were laid to rest. But your eyes seem to be glowing strangely. You keep saying to me to let you in. But, all I can do is look at you in total amazement. There is no logical way his can be happening. But as I try and wake up from what is evidentially a dream, you are still there, beckoning me to let you in.
I won't do that until I know what is going on. You continue to plead with me, but I turn away. When you died, you were outside on the grounds. We found your body that night, totally drained of blood. Even a doctor couldn't figure out what happened to you. I thought such things were myth or folk lore. I turn my back to you, knowing what I must do, the tears start to flow.
The entire night, I watch you through the big windows, as you aimlessly wander on the grounds. At day break, I no longer see you, knowing now what I suspect is true. I go and get your father, explaining to him what we must do, begging him not to think I'm insane. He agrees with minimal hesitation. I know in a way he believes me, because it presents an explanation to what he saw.
We go outside to the family crypt, opening the crypt going straight to your place of rest. We move a large stone displaying your coffin. We pull your coffin out and open it up. There you lay, looking as though you were sleeping. When you died, we didn't think to check your neck for puncture marks. So, I turn your head to the side and there they are. Looking like you had been pricked by a needle. I hate the idea of what I must do. But now we are talking about releasing your immortal soul. I love you in death as I did when you were alive. So what I must do now, I do out of love. I have brought a crucifix and wooden stake with me, as I know what must be done. Your father is going to help me, standing looking down at you, shaking his head side to side in total disbelief.
You hand me the wooden stake, as I hold it above your heart, I look down at you, professing my deep love for you. I stick you directly into your heart. Now I have the gruesome task of decapitating you. After I do this gruesome task, we take your lifeless body from the crypt, we then put your remains on top of a bunch of sticks, your father and I put together, before the gruesome act that I had to do.
We set it on fire, by doing this we hope to totally purify you. Hopping to keep your soul from eternal damnation. I silently watch the fire burn and the escaping smoke. I give a sigh of relief, praying your soul has now been released,