Death of a Mind

I leave the books behind and go to my room . I cry , as if Chase recently died and isn’t brooding in the room next door . I almost wish he’d die . Seeing him lose his mind feels more painful . At least if he died , I wouldn’t have to be teased by seeing his physical body , because the Chase I adore doesn’t exist anymore . His body is a house that is falling apart , and his mind is a prisoner in the upstairs attic . I have no hope . Still , sometimes , a glimpse of his malnourished body makes me want to violently shake him until the chains holding his mind captive fall free . As if that would work .

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He Was a Fool

Practicing the black arts leads to what lives within the shadows, and you never know what you are going to attract by dabbling in such things. Often times, those who argue that black magic doesn’t work haven’t personally practiced it. Having experienced it directly, I am one who believes that some doors are meant to remain shut, but fools rush in where angels fear to tread, and if anything could be said of my father it was that he was a fool.

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