Ma chil’, I know y’ loathe me, fo’ I’ve committed n’ unforgvable atrocity aginst yor soul, an' in ma selfishness, m’bout to commit anudda’. Ma sins’ve wrought deep creases n’ma face an’ i’is clear to enni who see me that ma ‘ntire visage’s foul; ma soul ha’been tainted by lying too long widdin the depths ov heinous debauchery. But I knew the price I’s t’ pay for ma affronts aginst life. Ma gods will spare me none imaginable suffrin’. An’ fo' wat? After a mere glimpse of pleasure, n’infinity ov torture awaits me. A worthy trade? Who cud resist? Yet ‘pon ma first glimpse inna the maw ma soul quaked an’ I, like a grouse frighten’d from his roost by padd’n feet, fled. Fool! Ma flight onny solidified ma despair. I’ve committed unspeakable atrocities wi’dese… accursed hans. All n’order to prolong ma entrance inna retribution, yet wi’ each blasphemy I deepened the hell I’m t'endure. An’ dov you? Will yor gods spare ya fo’tha lives ya’ve smote? Is yor god merciful? Cud ma soul be yet saved? But, alas, I know notta whom yor soul belongs. Yor skin’s so discolored an’ yor features so altered by d’cay. From which race ov people ya wor born from, I’m atta lose. It’s been so long since I took ya under ma vile veil. Who ya wor has faded from ma mind. Ma dear tortured soul, yo’r a question. Who wor ya? Who’r ya? Who’ll ya become after ma death?
Hmm? Correct ya’r t'think so, but widdis tag here, if this’s truly this god’s name, yor soul’ll be bound here fo' ev’rmore. Why ya wondering? After so long a slave? ‘Zit pity I fell fo' what I’ve done t'ya? Gilt? Ya wor a tool, one ov manni—expendable--t'use t'stave off ma damnation. But ya... I cud never tame ya, cud I? I cud never squeeze out yor resentment fo' me, an’ though I hold yor soul, it never fully belonged t'me. Ma dath’s near. I can feel it creep up through ma spine, invadin’ the precious fluids widdin. Ma strength’s waned too much. I can’t… I can’t recall enni ov ma spells. Yor scheming led us here, but don’ think this as’m punishment; the wrath ov one god’s enuff, an’ this act’s my plea t'n’unknown savior. Don’ be angry with me. We’ve been through hell together. Forgive ma selfishness, but knowing ya’ll still walk the world ov the livin’ll serve as a glimmer ov peace n’ma eternity ov suffrin’.
My enslaver removed his hands from my mouth; an inking needle in his left. My mouth still ajar, I looked up at this man. He looked sicker than I remembered him (I remember him?). His black skin didn’t gleam like it had before, but hung greyish and loosely from his thinning muscles beneath. His nostrils flared with every labored breath he took. His throat began to convulse and then he choked out a cough from deep within his lungs, rattling his entire frame and filling the room with terrible unease. Clutching my hand, he hacked up his lungs; on and on and on, and I watched. How terribly feeble this man is, fear beats through his veins. He grasps at my rotten hand for warmth, for security. I am his anchor. A monster for a fiend; a heresy for a blasphemer; one living shall pass into death, and one already dead will be granted a second... life? Hate? I do not hate this man. Hate the sin, not the sinner. I believe that was how it———the fit has ceased. Perhaps? Is he?
Don’ lament me yet. Air still reaches ma lungs. Yor soul’s mine yet. An’ for what? Before I became ‘ware ov the full reality ov ma bargain. What? I sought what? Material gain? The ecstasy ov flesh? None ovit can stave off death. Even the gods fear death. Their existence hangs from the slender threads ov faith an’ belief, an’dov memry. Dath clams all.
He let go of my hand and stared at his own; deep in contemplation. Suddenly, he stood and left my side. KTCHCK! The static fuzz-filling the room ceased, then the creaking of wooden stairs as they sagged under the weight of my enslaver.
Go be forgot’n.
His voice reach my ears faintly……………………………no clank of the lock latching shut. ——the moon? It was always the night. Waning; gibbous. When am I?