I am?

October 12, 2008
By Brandon Bowman, West Monroe, LA

Mettez votre foi dans moi.

(Put your faith in me.)

Never have words of any language been frozen in my mind like those inscribed on the obsidian walls before me. It was a code, or maybe it was a law, either way, those words were supposed to be very important to me, but for what reason I knew not. Looking around, I found a carcass that was heaped in a cold mass upon the marble floor. The pure white stone that the body was sprawled upon had turned crimson with the liquid that flows through all life and the food that sustains ours. Existence is such a piteous thing when you are a parasite. I made fresh tracks across the red pool that had settled upon the ground like freshly fallen snow. Being of a calm minded nature, I coolly forgot the corpse and aimed straight towards the east wall of the opaque chamber. The next inscription was transfixed on that wall as well as in my mind.

Nous sommes les morts.

(We are the dead.)

It was only then that the blackness of that place made itself aware to me. Being a creature of the night did not exempt me from being afraid of the dark and for good reason, the darkness is always hungry. With Gluttony driving it, the massive shadow inched its way towards the only form of nourishment left in the mausoleum, me. As the icicle teeth of the murky form sank into my body, I came to realize that heat had escaped my body long before the dark form came over me. Warmth had not resided in my pallid form for centuries, and the shadow could no longer freeze me with its icy bite. If only other fears of mine could be put to rest so easily. Suddenly, the next engraving came to my attention.

Vous êtes mes enfants.

(You are my children.)

I sat down on frosty steps that lead to the entrance of the tomb. Questions stuck in my consciousness just like lifeless statues of heroes permanently graced the halls of Medusa's lair. After a short time of pondering, a frigid realization came upon me as I looked at the final inscription upon the tomb door.

Je suis votre Dieu de la mort.

(I am your God of death.)

I laughed at my own ignorance. I suppose centuries and centuries of this half life can even make someone like me forget who he is. I then walked out into the cold night to find my children.

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