Voidwalker Episode Nine - Death
TW: Dirt and Death
YOUTUBE | SPOTIFY
[Tape Begins] Good morning.
(Sigh)
Good Morning [different tone]
Good Morning? Morning Good. Good Morning!
Haha, Why am I still saying that? I know at some point I had a reason. I had a structure based in the idea of a morning. Now it's vestigial. Like tonsils. No part of this is morning anymore. I'm not sleeping, there's no rising sun- no alarm- no light piercing closed blinds- hah- no tea.
The only thing morning means is the beginning of a new tape. In that way, tapes form the days of this beautiful, horrible place. There's poetry in that.
But what was a morning? In its original definition. It’s a- Golly, I struggle to recall. It's warm. It was summer the last I remember. There's an alarm giving me the weather forecast on the news station. I got up, took off my pajamas and changed into my clothes. I don't remember what they looked like but I know I liked the way they feel. And the way they looked. They were too large for me. I know they were because all of my clothes were. I've always been thin, like way too thin to find something both in my size and something I liked. I don't mind the way they hung on me. It was comfortable. Made me feel protected.
I made myself some tea and started the coffee pot for Malaysia. She used to drink tea too, but after college she had grown more fond of, eugh, coffee.
I remember every part of it now. I can feel the day playing out in my head. It's comforting to remember a life before this.
Malaysia woke up later than me. I had made us breakfast. She sipped her coffee and told me about her dream. We had oatmeal with sliced fruit on top. blueberries and strawberries and each half a banana sliced into bits. She liked it, I think. She didn't eat much.
I told her I had a Mass today. That Santano wanted her to come. It would end long before she had to get to the library. I think it spoiled her appetite. She rolled back and started searching through our little drawer of candles. She opened one and smelled it. Then she closed it and opened another.
I tried to convince her. I told her surely she had seen how happy it made me and that she should just give it a try. It was far from the first time I had to ask her, but I think she saw the desperation in my voice.
She looked to the candle she held it as- if almost as if she was asking it for advice before- pensively setting it down. She shut the drawer and backed away.
"I'll go," She said before quickly correcting herself, "Just this once. ok?"
I remember the drive there. It was silent. I remember thinking the sky was so beautifully grim but I don't remember what it looked like. I remembered sitting in the back, uncharacteristic of myself but a sacrifice I was willing to make for Malaysia's comfort. Then the poems began.
A sonnet spoken from a masterpiece that creates masterpieces. The truth, the only truth I had ever known. I remember exactly what he said. I wish I could remember the delightful ways his beautiful face contorted around each word as they flowed out of his mouth- swirling into the air like this DARN RED LIGHT.
(quickly calming down)
Sorry. Sorry.
I-
Malaysia got more tense as it went on. As the words shifted from speaking praise to the Earth to speaking praise for its creature. Santano caught my eyes. I remember the string of tension that connected us even from across the room as he explained and even simpler and simpler terms in hopes to enlighten my friend. He was so kind and gentle and sweet like the grass cushioning your feet as you walked.
He was the Earth's favorite and I was his favorite. I like to think that made me important.
His feet were so connected to the ground it's like he spoke from the core of the Earth itself.
Malaysia softly prodded at her phone from a position she thought I couldn't see. When she saw me she whispered that this wasn't right. She called it a cult, she said it was evil. I couldn't believe her. The gull to call my community a cult right in its very service?
Though, I- I kept my cool. she just didn't understand and I was sure the hole would enlighten her. That beautiful combination of generations worth of effort.
I worried for her. Her soul more than her body. I worried her death would be in vain, but here and now I have the capacity to save her.
The people filed from the pews into a second room. The people smiled and chatted as they armed themselves with simple mechanisms to dig. Shovels, mostly, although I know quite a few preferred the more intimate struggle of clawing at the dirt with their very hands. They organized themself wordlessly into their places and they began to dig. Malaysia was given the privilege to watch me and with Santano. The people almost looked like ants from so far above. The site gave me so much joy I almost couldn't hear the escalation of Malaysia's concerned whispers up to frantic yelling.
I can't remember what she said as I tried to drop them from my mind. Such horrible things, I know they were. "Listen," I pleaded, "Listen to Santano he can save you. I want you to be saved. You're not going to die a meaningless death. Malaysia, let me save you!"
...
(gulp)
She stormed off. I don't think she went far.
"She just needs time," I said, unsure if it was to Santano or to myself.
And then Santano spoke, and I remember exactly what he said.
"You are kindness and compassion greater than me. You are the image of that support. I see the deep desire to help in your eyes, but in the same glint I recognize an anger I've never seen in you. I'm so happy you care so much for this cause and I'm sure your conflict is hurting you but you know what you need to do to save her."
The people in the hole continued to dig as my soft cheeks were so gently caressed by the smoothness of his hands.
I knew what I needed to do.
"For your community, for the Earth, for me." He said to me, the spade in his hand sparkling in sharpness.
And I knew what I needed to do.
The spade fit perfectly in my clinched hand as I walked into the darkness.
I knew what I needed to do like I always did and only then did I have the strength to admit it.
And I walked to her. And I knew it and I knew it. And I felt the blood pool and I knew it was hers. Wasn't it that very same red dancing in the room now?
I know what I did. I remember what I said I remember everything. I did what I needed to do. Oh did I do it? Did I know it? I lived it. I killed it. I killed her.

















