Legacy - 3
Well, what can I say?
It’s been so long since I’ve actually killed someone that I was bound to botch it up somehow.
I was never so messy when I was a young man. The place, the time, the manner; they all had been so well conceived and thought through. Perhaps I thought I could relive some of that old passion, the old glory I used to bask in until I was forced to get a paying job (as if any recompense could compare…hah) to support my family. God knows what my wife would say and do if she ever discovered what my preferred career is and always has been.
Thank god she doesn’t know that the innocent accident that brought us together all those years ago, the death of her mother was actually me, playing the part of the Grim Reaper. I still remember that night as if it were yesterday – the way your mother’s face looked as she slept through it all.
For you see, my son, my time has finally come, after millennia of destroying entire cultures I finally settled down and waited for death to find me.
You looked confused. Ah yes, I did say millennia. You see, my son, I was not always your father; for the greater portion of my long, enhanced life I served those who had been forgotten: the dead. I was their living sword, cast out amidst the fields of the living to thresh those the dead deemed great for their own purposes.
No, I am not on medication, nor should I be (such a thing would be dangerous beyond your imagining). No, I have not started drinking. I thought you knew me better than to think I would poison myself so.
The manner in which I approach life is no different than your average Joe off the street; we all do what we have to in order to survive – to be able to look ourselves in the mirror each morning. And if you’re lucky enough you’re one of those few able to smile back at their reflection. Oh yessirree, it’s gonna be a beautiful day!
What do you think of that after all of those teachers filling you up with the low grade fuel the government calls history? Knowledge they say – hah!
You are looking at me strangely, son. What? What do you mean, she’s gone?
Danny. Oh, Danny, what have you done. Your own mother…
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