I am so sorry Mother.
I am an ugly, horrid creature.
I am monstrous.
My face scares children.
Thick slabs of ebony skin blind my vision.
I have no nose.
I cannot breathe.
My lungs have never been satisfied by the crisp, Jipe air.
I cannot speak.
My lips are sealed from the day of my being.
My head is smooth and bare like an infant.
My crown is missing, stolen from me.
It has been stripped from our people since the Windsor King arrived.
I am a monster.
I hate myself.
My hunger consumes me.
It is all encompassing.
I cannot stop it.
But I need to eat.
I have put it off for too long.
I have to eat.
I am going to eat.
Mother, I did it.
You told me to suppress my urges.
I am a horrible son.
I am sorry.
I could not resist.
I loathed the taste.
It was raw and impure.
Its bitter taste seeped into my throat.
I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t.
They taunted me, the King's men.
So I chased them.
I chased them into their house.
I found the unlucky one hiding under a bed.
The quick patter of his heartbeat echoed in my mind, guiding me to his fate.
His death was slow and numbing.
His skin withered like oil, seeping into my essence.
Every piece of him became a piece of me until his absence engulfed the room.
The essence of him consumed me.
It rejuvenated me.
I was divine.
I could see.
Nothingness faded into light, then to color, and shapes.
The heaviness in my chest faded away.
I could breathe.
I was weightless.
My hair, once absent, grew to prickles on my scalp.
I could finally part my lips.
For the first time I could laugh.
I could scream.
So that’s what I did.
I laughed and screamed and cried to the world.
Overwhelmed by my senses, I did not notice the second man approach me.
Sorry Mother.
I did not notice the man take out his sword.
Sorry Mother.
And I did not notice the man slice my head off of my neck until it was too late.
Sorry Mother.
Once overcome with ecstasy, my body rests in the soil of our home.
My head, stolen from you, is now a trophy perched above the king’s throne.
I apologize, Mother.
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025 at 1:26 AM UTC
I am so sorry Mother.
I am an ugly, horrid creature.
I am monstrous.
My face scares children.
Thick slabs of ebony skin blind my vision.
I have no nose.
I cannot breathe.
My lungs have never been satisfied by the crisp, Jipe air.
I cannot speak.
My lips are sealed from the day of my being.
My head is smooth and bare like an infant.
My crown is missing, stolen from me.
It has been stripped from our people since the Windsor King arrived.
I am a monster.
I hate myself.
My hunger consumes me.
It is all encompassing.
I cannot stop it.
But I need to eat.
I have put it off for too long.
I have to eat.
I am going to eat.
Mother, I did it.
You told me to suppress my urges.
I am a horrible son.
I am sorry.
I could not resist.
I loathed the taste.
It was raw and impure.
Its bitter taste seeped into my throat.
I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t.
They taunted me, the King's men.
So I chased them.
I chased them into their house.
I found the unlucky one hiding under a bed.
The quick patter of his heartbeat echoed in my mind, guiding me to his fate.
His death was slow and numbing.
His skin withered like oil, seeping into my essence.
Every piece of him became a piece of me until his absence engulfed the room.
The essence of him consumed me.
It rejuvenated me.
I was divine.
I could see.
Nothingness faded into light, then to color, and shapes.
The heaviness in my chest faded away.
I could breathe.
I was weightless.
My hair, once absent, grew to prickles on my scalp.
I could finally part my lips.
For the first time I could laugh.
I could scream.
So that’s what I did.
I laughed and screamed and cried to the world.
Overwhelmed by my senses, I did not notice the second man approach me.
Sorry Mother.
I did not notice the man take out his sword.
Sorry Mother.
And I did not notice the man slice my head off of my neck until it was too late.
Sorry Mother.
Once overcome with ecstasy, my body rests in the soil of our home.
My head, stolen from you, is now a trophy perched above the king’s throne.
I apologize, Mother.