Call Me Lucian, As Others Do

I closed my eyes smiling, while the blood emptied from my veins onto the carpet. You see, pain became my pleasure. I am now not one of you. No, I don’t think your kind could ever fully grasp what I’ve become. In my mind I raced for the shadows, while the voices I heard begged for me to follow the light. I silenced those voices that night. I didn’t want to be just another prosthetic brain in a useless body. I wanted to make choices of my own, wanted to make my own fate. I made a choice in the hours of darkness. One I never will look back upon with shame or regret. I am proud of what I am. You see, the night became mine, the moon my precious air. I used to be you, cowering under the sheets, telling myself the voices will just go away; but I refuse to lay frightened in the dark fearing what’s beyond, in wait for the sun to rise. I am to be feared, you see. Some call it paranoia. I call it a higher sense making sure you’re never off guard. In the paper you always see missing reports. I could tell you where all those people are, but the circumstances of their captivity aren’t very pleasant. What I need you to understand before I continue is, once you hear my tale, my story, nothing will change but everything will. You won’t ever pass a ‘drunk man’ on the sidewalk and perceive he did that of his own independence. No longer will your perspective be that of a moronic human. Not only will you think differently, but you’ll act differently. When you die you’ll also be given the choice. You understand what I’m saying, yes? Phenomenal, now let’s begin. I became what my kind call ‘dincolo de moarte’. It’s Romanian for ‘beyond death’. As you may wish to speak, call me Lucian, as others do.