The Seventh Coming of John Galeneth

There are some philosophers who have described life as a dream and death as an awakening; others have said that we are awake for the brief span of time that we call life only to sleep as dust for all eternity. I am no philosopher, neither am I a poet. Yet I have had certain… Continue reading The Seventh Coming of John Galeneth

Death Rehearsal, Part the Fifth

The next day, I was awakened by the touch of a hand upon my forehead. “No fever.” Casimir made a note in a little book that he held. When he saw that I had awakened, he smiled. His gaze was all kindness. I saw not a trace of the cold, unfeeling cruelty that I had… Continue reading Death Rehearsal, Part the Fifth

Death Rehearsal, Part the Fourth

When I awoke, I found myself lying in a different bed from my own. My head throbbed unbearably and my tongue was painfully parched. I attempted to rise, but found that leather straps held me securely bound. I could not so much as lift my hand for a glass of water. “Awake at last.” Casimir… Continue reading Death Rehearsal, Part the Fourth

Death Rehearsal, Part the Third

As much as I still felt a measure of uncertainty in respect to my old friend, I must confess that it felt good to tell him my nightmares. Casimir had always been a gifted listener; his attentive silences, free of either judgment or curiosity, seemed to invite confession. As he leaned against the stone wall… Continue reading Death Rehearsal, Part the Third

Death Rehearsal, Part the Second

Flanked by his two, burly attendants, the two of us stepped out of the manor. The evening had deepened into a blue-grey twilight; a slight mist had risen from the nearby lake, shadowing the lower trunks of the forest that bordered the grounds. “Can you show me the place where you were found after your… Continue reading Death Rehearsal, Part the Second

Death Rehearsal, Part the First

I have always suffered most wretchedly from nightmares. Ever since childhood, these nightmares have had the effect of depriving me of sleep and of haunting my waking hours as I have dreaded the coming fall of night and its attendant terrors. But it was in my twenty-fourth year, in the autumn of 1812, that my nightmares threatened to deprive me of my reason as well as my peace.