Suicide Letter For A Godless Humanity

                                                                            A Fictional Suicide Letter Written to a Godless Humanity

      You there, read me very slowly so that I may tell you the details. Won’t you let me…? The laugher, Fuck! Did you hear the laughter? Did you think I’m the one laughing? Maybe, I probably should not tell you anything, I’m thinking. We don’t have much time, so it is wise to consider. I know you want to know, but I know that I can’t trust you. Either way, I got this damned uneasiness messing with my brain and so I have to tell you what happened.
        But who are you? Who is reading this letter? You are probably looking down at the page with a mocking grin, like you think you know who you are. Do you? You can’t talk to a letter, Shut up! Know this; I love you and I hate you, understand? Let me tell you what happened, Yes? Would you like to know? You will read on you sheep: I’m here to talk about God.  Yes, god, that’s something we all talk about. We often say, “Oh dear God! Godly! Fuck me, God! God me, God this and God the world!” Let me tell you people now that I got a chance to look at you, the prayers which guide your lives are a lie! But you are dumbass cunts who will never be able to tell a lie from truth. Yes, because the truth is that I know God. I know God and God is…
      Let me tell you the details; it all started when I was eleven. A man came to my door and asked me, “Do you suffer?” and I told him to go away. Then he said, “Let me in and tell me of your pain,” and I closed the door on him. I turned away and heard him knock three times, gentle knocks. I opened the door hoping to mock him again, but no one was there. Then, that same night, I started to have the dream. Blood dripping, just blood dripping endlessly –That was my dream. Believe me, I am a normal man, things like dreams don’t bother me. But this dream… I dreamed ever night. Blood dripping, dripping. Fuck! Did you laugh? Whatever, do not stop reading! Here is what happened; I did not pay attention to the dream for a long time. I learned to live with it. I would go to school and to my jobs, I was good at the work I did; I would bring friends to my room, oh the good times! But then in the nights, there was the dream again and again and again. Thirty fucking years I had that dream! Blood dripping endless, dark red blood!
      Then, out of nowhere, the man came to my door again and he asked the same question from when I was a child, “Do you suffer?” I would have liked to send him away, but the truth is that I did suffer ever since the dream came along. So I told him, “I do suffer”. He came in and sat in my living room. Then he said, “Tell me about your pain”. You must understand, I had never spoken about my dream to anyone before, I felt someone had to know. This man behaved as if he needed to know and so I told him.
      “Blood” I said, “Blood dripping like a waterfall in my dreams.”
      Then he said to me, “have you offered blood in exchange for your sins”
      “Sins?”
      “Don’t you know you are a sinner?” he said and stayed quiet as he told me of way to get rid of the dream. He said, “I will take the blood from your dreams”. He asked me for the blood of an animal and said he would be back in a week.
      So I… fuck, ignore the laugh. I wanted so badly to forget about that dream. So I did as he told me. I grabbed a dog from the street and brought it to my apartment. I showered him. I fed him and I petted him until he trusted me and became mine. Then I showed him to the shower and said to him, “I’m sorry.” Believe me, I was careful about this – I slid the axe through his neck fast and clean. He did not feel it. Then I drained as much blood as I could into a bag, drop by drop, and put it in the freezer. The man came a week later, as he said he would, and he took the bag of blood without saying a word.
      At first I felt ridiculed, but then, that night, there was peace! I did not dream a single thing, nothing. There was darkness, no memory. When I woke up I felt a great happiness, like none other, I felt free and the world was at my favor. There were children in the neighborhood, the laughter of children like I’ve never heard before, beauty. I thought the dream was gone for good, but then on the sixth night, on that fucking night the terror returned into my mind. There was the dream again! The blood pouring endless and forever! Stop laughing!
I waited. I wanted more than anything to hear that very gentle knock at my door. But the days went by and the stranger did not come, only my dream would visit me. Why? Why did this dream choose me to be its instrument of manifestation? I hate the thought of blood – why must I dream about that painful red? It was with me for another ten years, TEN YEARS! I felt so heavy, depressed, and almost crazy. I wanted to die, more than I wanted to stop dreaming.
      Then the man returned. The knock was gentle, like before, and his words were as comforting, “Do you suffer?”
      “I do suffer”
      "Let me in and tell me about your pain,”
      “The dream, blood, it still torments me.”
      “You continue to sin.”
      "Sin?”
      Then he said, “I will take the blood from your dreams.” He told me what to do and I listened and, fuck! The laugh does not matter, pay attention; he told me that the blood of an animal would not do, human blood was needed. He said, “Kill your neighbor’s child and preserve her blood, I will return in one week.”
      I did as he told me. Yes, I had to, my freedom being of such great importance to me, obviously. I had to be careful; murder is a difficult and dirty task. Killing the dog had been simple, but was I willing to kill a child? I have to think… my neighbor’s daughter was only a couple months old. Is it worse to kill an innocent child than a guilty adult? Laugh! Fuck! To be honest, all I cared about was getting rid of the dreadful dream. Whose blood I shed made no difference, because all that matters is my salvation.
      I surely don’t mean to brag, but I am the best at the work I do. The carefulness on which I went about my deeds was incomparable. I am a genius! Murder with clean hands! Yes, allow me to laugh! I contacted a man whose services were perfect for what I needed done. He was the perfect kind of murderer. The man wore a mask and his voice was impossible to recognize, but most importantly; he had no conscience. He had killed many people before, all for money, so I offered the right amount. I instructed him to kill my neighbor’s daughter. I told him, “I need you to bring her corpse to me in less than a week, make sure her blood is fresh”. He took the down payment and left.
      I waited. I have learned that patience is a valuable lesson. I was always careful, always, when opening the curtain and gazing at my neighbors door. He would come out about four times a day, usually taking his daughter out in the afternoon. The first night went by, the dreams were present in my thoughts, but I did not let them bother me. They would soon be gone, surely. The second day went by, my neighbor’s daughter giggling in her stroller, tormenting giggles. You don’t understand, I did not want the girl dead; all I want in my life is peace! I needed her to die. Two more days went by; I spent every hour at my window, watching the little girl amusing her parents with those cursed giggles. I begin to hate the sound of the child. Fuck! Why wasn’t she dead? The stranger would return in three days and the blood was still running through her, pouring inside my dreams!  A laugh doesn’t mean anything…
      On the sixth morning I woke up to the sound of my doorbell. The stranger always knoc… fuck, oh fuck! Who laughs? I laugh! You better keep reading, I fucking warn you! It was the assassin at my door. He was back! There was a suitcase on his hand, my reward.
      “The money,” he said and reached into my pockets, he handed me the suitcase as I gave him the cash and he was gone.
      … I’m not sure how long I stared at the suitcase. “She is inside,” I thought. Hours went by, hours and hours, time escalated and I waited for the right time when I would feel the sudden urge to finish my part of the job.  Dusk arrived, I opened the suitcase and inside there was a black wrinkled bag wrapped around the corpse of my neighbor’s daughter. I slowly uncovered her.  I guessed she had been killed that same day, probably by asphyxiation, there was not a single bruise on any of her limbs. The assassin was surely a professional, a genius like myself.  I took the corpse into the shower and carefully hanged her upside down using a rope and a hanger, then I placed a bucket with a bag under her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered then slid the ax across her neck, then her chest. Fuck! Yes, laugh! I laughed too! I Laughed as I extracted the lungs, heart, liver, and intestines - the blood pouring gloriously from the little lifeless body. It was so beautiful! Dark red, like in the dreams, fuck! As I watched, I felt the blood from my own nightmares leaving my brain, as if my own thoughts were bleeding into that bucket. Freedom, sweet freedom; thank the babe and thank the blood! Who are you really laughing at, huh?
      Read me, please… remember to do it very slowly and do not miss the details. This is what happened next: The stranger came on the seventh day, silent as he did before, he took the blood, but before he turned away I asked him, “Will my dreams be gone for good this time?”
      “You can pray that they will.”
      “Who are you?”
      Then he answered, “I am divine,” turning away from me and disappearing behind the hall.
      I closed the door and laid against it until I fell asleep. Beautiful sleep, dark and forgotten, like a glimpse into the abyss of eternity which is erased by the morning light, I wished for day to vanish and for sleep to be my home. That day, I slept for twenty-seven hours.
      A week went by, a month, a year; the dreams were gone! Out! Vanished! Fuck! Let’s laugh! This is the perfect moment for laughter… I never felt as happy as in those five years when my dream was gone. Every day was an opportunity and every night was peaceful. I accomplished the finest acts of my life during those five years. I was a fucking symbol to everyone of everything that is good to be. My life was a blessing, perfection. Fucking idiots! Idiots, all of us, even me! Stop laughing! Five years after our last meeting, I went to sleep expecting to visit my darkness. NO! There was Blood! Blood dripping! An endless waterfall of blood drowning down my night of silence! Fuck! Laugh! I want to hear you laugh! I want to hear you laugh, now! Fuck, the blood returned… for how long? How long will I suffer this time? How much is needed from me?
      I was tormented by dream after dream of blood- Twenty five years! Fuck! I was willing to give up anything to sleep forever. But I knew the stranger would be coming and knowing that gave me some peace, to a good enough level as to keep myself from losing my mind. All I had to do is wait, which I did. Then one day, as expected, three gentle knocks at my door. There he was, telling his usual sermon.
      “Do you suffer?”
      “I do, please, take the pain away!”
      “You continue to sin.”
      “What must I do? Tell me, please. I’ll do whatever it takes to find peace!”
      “You must offer blood.”
      “I will offer blood. As much blood as you need!”
      “Listen closely; I will take the blood from your dreams, forever. If you truly wish to find peace for all eternity you will need to offer your own blood as a sacrifice.”
    “My blood?”
      “That is the price. I will return for your offering in one week.”
      Then he left and I closed the door very slowly. I sat in my living room thinking deeply about what must be done. I will do as he told me, my peace is more important than my life. It is a strange choice, offering my own blood to a stranger who called himself “divine”. Fuck! Forgive me for interrupting the laughter but I must make my point: that you are all idiots! Let me tell you why. Why? Because you offer blood to imaginary characters who terrorize you and reward you as you find convenient for you miserable and insignificant lives. You are liars! My story is all truth - my dream and the terror was real, the stranger was real, the blood was real, the peace after every sacrifice was real. Yes… unlike you who live as sheep and are servants to your imaginations. Remember this; I never imagined a single thing.
      My life is good. It angers me that my life was always interrupted by those dreams of blood, it angers me that I must give my life up to a stranger and it angers me that I was never able to find peace while being alive. No point in laughing. This is what I did; I spoiled myself during that last week, I ate all my favorite foods and toured all the places I always wanted to see. I visited my best friends and celebrated without consequence. I confessed my love to all the people who inspired me and my hatred to all those who intended wrongly against me. Not by revenge, I simply finally dared to be honest. I quit from everything that made me unhappy and accepted all my joy. Do not laugh. Be silent. Listen, for the first time I was not laughing – I was watching from a distance which I had not discovered before. It was then that it occurred to me: what am I guilty of? Am I guilty to God for being a sinner or my guilty to myself for giving into the stranger? What if the stranger was the one who cursed me? Was it possible that the blood came from outside my nightmares and that there was a way to reverse my faith? Did I ever have to kill? Am I really better off dead?  I don’t know. Fuck! Damned decisions…
      It is the sixth day. I am ready to die. Life has been full, now there is business to take care of. I’m almost done with this letter. You will soon no longer be obligated to another word. I will draw my blood out through a needle into a jar that should be large enough to contain me. I will watch my blood slowly draining out of my body, welcome the pale weakness and the desperation of dying. I will leave my lock open and let myself bleed until the stranger comes and collects me. But before I suicide, there is something I must do. Again, I don’t mean to brag… but I am genius. This is what I will do: I bought a pile of poison which I will inject into my veins as I bleed out. Poisoned blood! That is my offering - take my blood and drink in the taste all my rage. Take the blood from my dreams and take the pain too. Fuck! Yes! Who dares to laugh now? Drink me very slowly so that you do not miss a single drop from my poison, stranger.  Now is time to stop writing – he will always remember me and so will you, because tomorrow God will die and you will be liberated… 

The end
By:
Seres Jaime Magana