Prompt: “I am dead.”
I am dead. That might sound strange, but it’s not. Not really. Everyone dies. In fact, there are far more dead than there are living. I suppose the real strange part is that I’m writing this message to you. That’s not strange. A lot of dead people leave messages; you just don’t interpret them correctly.
You see, dreams are the messages from the dead. Your psychiatrists and psychologists think it’s from your unconscious, at least those that believe Freud. They’re wrong. I’m sorry, but they are. We, the dead, send messages through Limbo which we interpret as dreams. And nightmares. Very good nightmares.
Anyway, back to me being dead. I touched something I shouldn’t have. It didn’t kill me directly, but it turned on. It shouldn’t have turned on. In order for it to be on, I needed to die. I don’t know if it caused my death, but whoever touches it dies soon after.
In my case, I was riding on a plane and carrying it. Someone had given it to me to bring to Chicago. I wouldn’t usually do such a thing, but I needed the money, so I agreed. I suspect it was the basis for Pandora’s box, because curiosity got the better of me. I opened it, and I touched it. Then the plane crashed.
Now I am dead. I am its puppet. I am Tur. It is Ki. We are Kitur. Dead man. False name. We cause the Collapse. We have no remorse. Dead name. False man. I am dead, and I do not exist.