There are many ways
to die. She died believing she had
survived. But all that survived were her
involuntary functions, like breathing, and hoping. Everything that moved under direction was
murdered. There can be no free
will. There can be nothing left that
opens all of the doors in the hallway.
There can be no way through the red straw network. There can only be walking. Walking and walking and walking. And there must
be acceptance. Her life was
forfeit. It was never meant to be
practiced. It was meant to be sacrificed
to the greater cause. If only the
buffoon hadn't been such a buffoon. The
great buffoon who accidentally saved them all by being so very useless and
weird. It does not matter who you are or
where you came from if you are weird, and, therefore, unpredictable. Close counts in more than just horseshoes and
hand grenades.
He was a fool. Even with fools he could not fit in. He was a fool who fools despised, because he
did not know he was weird. His genius
brain betrayed him. Everything and
everyone betrayed him. It was a family
full of nuclear silences. The bomb has
yet to go off. Instead the leaking
radiation is killing us all.
