Worm, The Conqueror
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The Worm broods; Ever scraping, screaming, chewing; Bloated on the misery of Man!

17th August:

It was raining and the steel grey clouds let loose their waters with unceasing violence upon me and my dead son. How puffed up and bloated the clouds seemed to me. How deep a sense of awe and fear their grotesque form inspires in Man! I did not look at them now. They were meaningless, insignificant when set beside my only son. Why have you left me? Why did you leave me alone in this indifferent world?
…No one cares. There are no tears but of my shedding, no sighs but of my breathing. The sky alone weeps; The clouds alone grieve. But their tears serve no purpose, unless they drown the world with them! Insignificant brutes! Unsentimental fiends! My son is dead! You do not grieve, nor do you mourn. Do not lie to me, I do indeed know that you merely shed crocodile tears. Only the clouds weep. No one else CARES!

I know what I must do. I hope you will forgive me, Wilson. When you look upon my tear stained countenance, at my blistered hands, at the blood on my clothes, you will know why I did it. Why I….I will bring you back. I am lonely and afraid. Nobody weeps, only the clouds do. Nobody moans, only the wind does. There is no God, there is only the Sky.

18th August:

Today….I will see you again. Your blue eyes will sparkle once more under the Sky; Your auburn hair will dance once more 'neath the August Sun. I have moved to a cabin deep, deep in the woods away from the others. Don't worry, we will still be able to gaze upon the wonderful Sky wreathed with the white clouds and adorned with fiery Helios. Today, you will walk with me once more.

I have done the deed. The trees were moaning. They seemed so sad and lonely. But their hearts are black and rotten with worms and maggots. They told me not to seek It in the Sky. They tried to stop me! How dare they! The trees do not weep. They are neither sad nor lonely. They are treacherous and their villainy nearly cost me my life. They led me to the precipice. They led me to the end of the road. The moon was waxing and its pallid glow prevented me from walking off into the air. The Sky saved me. It cares for me. It cares for you. The trees do not. They merely crave death and decay which enriches the foul ground upon which they fester. They are glad that you are dead and they will pay for it. They wanted me to return you to the soil and for this affront, they will feel my vengeance.
I can still feel the wax dribbling through my fingers.

I hope you will forgive me when I see you. Forgive me for my sins. I only wanted you back. It was so hungry; So weak and emaciated. Man, nay Life itself has polluted the Sky since its very genesis. It was in pain and wanted respite. I gave it my Empathy. It promised it would bring you back. It is God, the only God. The only reality in the benevolent, awe-inspiring Sky.

19th August:

Yes! You are back! Why do you turn away, Wilson! Oh, how wan and grey you look! You need to cheer up, to revel beneath the blue Sky.
I'm sorry….I did not mean to hurt you. Wilson, oh ravenous Wilson, why do you rage? I know you did not mean to do it, but you must control yourself. That poor bird. I would have gladly prepared some Hasenpfeffer for you.

The trees seem pale and sickly today and the grass is no longer green. Of course! The trees must be behind it. It must be a false front for whatever evil they plot in their hollow minds. I can feel their fiery hatred. It signs the very air and the ground. Yet, it seems as if they have hurt themselves in their vindictive pursuit. They will never forgive me, not after my sacrifice, not after the barren heath on the western slopes. But they matter not, for you are with me once more, dear, dear Wilson. Why don't you laugh like you used to. Oh, how I long to hear your merry little laugh again albeit it sounding like a creek upon worn and weathered rocks.

20th August:

Everything has fallen apart. Nothing is the same anymore….
You cut deep for a child. I am in pain, so much pain. Why Wilson?, Why?
I can run no longer. I must face the truth, the black, rotten truth. My son never came back….to me. It was me, me, all me. Your body lies beneath a meter of dirt a thousand miles away. I have deceived myself too long.
The Sky giveth, the Sky takes away. There is no God, only Man. There is no Life, only Death. Life is merely a fallacy, a struggle against inevitable Death. The trees warned me, warned me not to seek out the darkest part of my soul. I feared change, I couldn't let you go. I love you, yet my love was tainted. Tainted with my black ambition to keep you away from the prying hands of bat-winged Death…

Forgive me Wilson, for I was the one who killed you. The voice spoke to me from the Inner Earth. It sounded so lonely, so hungry, so weak. I was a craven fool to have listened to its lies, to have heeded the visions and vistas I gazed upon in the euphoria of Opium.
Forgive me, dear Wilson. I was deluded by none but myself. May the Devil take me, may I rot in Judecca, may I be chewed and slathered by the Worm.

I finally understand. The madness that pervades the Earth, the lust, the addiction, all of it SERVES TO FEED THE CONQUEROR WORM. We have set His dominion in stone with iron fingers. We have shrouded God in the clouds of our ambition. We sought to conqueror the sky only to be conquered by the Worm. My life is worthless, I will not cry over spilt milk even if the Sky does. I sprung from dust and to it I will return.


"While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, 'Man,'
And its hero, the Conqueror Worm."

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