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From: Winthrop
Date: 26 Nov 1999
Time: 10:18:46
Oh, to be as blind in death as I was in life for that brief period. Why, with eyes unnatural, do I see this unclouded, unveiled, uncowled, when mine was not the lot in life to be damned. Gods, I was but I servant of the damned, and blinded for it, and killed for it, and buried in the corner basement with a few blood tears to show my passing and then to court the shadow as I do, frail in my forms as life was to me, why were my eyes not plucked out as they were, and why could I not know this wasn't hell? Oh, and beyond Hell, for I still can see with darkened, shaded eyes the world that I left behind, though it has been wanting of me for long, of that I am assured by my passing, as the passing of my master, though to count him truly dead is to court the disaster that so many have before. I will count myself among the dead, but spectral, more, indeed, dignified than the ages would have seen me had I been reduced to less than man, less than soul. Who, who am I in this charade, not quite a costume ball, but hidden behind masks of faces known and forgotton nonetheless. Is it my lot to know the dead beyond their death and even beyond my own? So bit it, if it is. I have, as history will prove and the future reveal, lived and died through worse. I, to cast directly into introductions, am Winthrop. Was it them more than obvious who I am, but to all I am a shade, a bodyless soul in search of a soulless body. No, I am only Winthrop. I had lived in Dallas, and died in Dallas, my entire life. Found by minions, I was and am killed, seeking peace and finding... this.
What will your perceptions of me be? No words will bear that out. Would they, we would be here for days discussing, while I know that we will never. Good night, good night, into I go Gentle, Forgotton here amongst the world, and all I want is silence. Rest and then awakened, here. There will be a chance for us, dreaming and waking alive.
Always, I would have remained, Your faithful servant, Winthrop