The Dead Speaks

It was a rough day for me, yesterday, having to deal with another death in the family. As I lay my head down for sleep my mind would not let it be. The pictures in my mind of my cousin dying from cancer brought back the demon that has been haunting me for over 30 years. After tossing and turning for what seemed like an hour, I decided to get out of bed. It was after midnight and the only sound I heard was the whistle of the wind blowing through the trees. I walked out onto my back porch for solitude and try to make sense of why such a vibrant young lady and mother of three children had to go through such a horrible and painful death. My mind was not on the colonel, yet, he made himself known. It seems that he does not want anyone to take his place. His name is death and he does not want me to forget him. As I am sitting and trying to remove him from my conscious thought he only got stronger. Snapshots of him kept flashing in my mind. He is jealous and does not want anyone to replace him. The harder I try to forget the more I am reminded. I hear his voice from the other room. I must have dozed off but I know it is him trying to control my sub-conscious. He is evil, intimidating, relentless, and overpowering. I cannot stop thinking of him. This is exactly what he wants. He is angry that I have kept him at bay for these last few weeks. He wants me to know that he has the power over me. I hear him calling my name. It is as if he is back in room 225 calling me for help in some type of patient care. I do not believe that he is aware that he is dead sometimes. Maybe his soul is stuck back in 1979 and he is in his own hell. He has been causing me to feel that hell is here. The cancer ate away his body but not his soul. His soul is still living and keeps trying to communicate with me. He calls my name, once again. He is death and life at the same time. He lives in my sub-conscious and will never give me peace. He calls but I do not answer.    theblogmeister