Grim thoughts spread like cracks in walls. The battlements of sanity are imposing in theory, yet as time and disuse assuage them of violent purpose, they grow old. Life creeps out, and no war of emotion strikes the ancient gates. The tide comes in and erodes the base, and stone by stone it falls. The tide goes out and more sand that was once your soul is scattered and irretrievable.

Tide goes in, tide goes out.

I do not know who I am. I have a name, yes, but I don’t know who I am. You know when you are a child and you would hide somewhere to escape the world? I don’t remember what that was for me. I have blurry images of a house, often changing as I correct then lose the flow of entangled detail. Sometime I see a face, and I think it may be a parent, a sibling or maybe just a friend. I don’t have many friends. I don’t remember more than those I met recently. Even then that is a short list. I wonder if I changed their lives at all. They come and go and I have nothing to show for it.

Tide goes in, tide goes out.

I recently got out of the pit I am so entrenched in. As far back as I can think I have only seen dark corners, the floor a market for rats and I just a still and imposing clocktower that ticks off the moments with my breath. I breath in the putrid air and feel sick. I exhale preciously and I feel old.

Tide goes in, tide goes out.

The time I got out, I saw the sun for awhile. It was heavy and that scared me. The water was angry, the sand so hot on my feet. But the wind. Oh how I love the feeling of freedom incarnate, the impossible push and tug, the flow around my form of that which cannot be captured or tamed. Ferocity in gentleness and consolation in rage.

Tide goes in, tide goes out.

I made a friend. His name was Irving. We spent time traveling about. He sought fame, fortune, something to bring back to his family. I don’t remember mine, so that wasn’t my goal. I know that as long as there is an effect, there must be a cause. I am moved from prison cell to prison cell, and any time I escape I am caught and given over to the same people. I do not remember things well. Something made me this way and I know out there is an answer. Every time I get out I search for what gave unholy birth to my afflictions. Every son has a mother.

Tide goes in, tide goes out.

When I last got out and met Irving, we met a man. He said he served a being who was called the Night Mother. I explained my diseased life, and Irving explained his greed. The acolyte said the Night Mother could give us both what we wanted. Yet, when we headed out, we got separated. I was discovered as a stowaway, but still found a way to continue. I found the way to the Night Mother but soon my curse was fulfilled. I have returned to my home in the moist and unfulfilling shadow. Every time I leave, I must return.

Tide goes in, tide goes out.

I knew Irving had someone back home, someone named Colin Strapp. If I were to get a message to him, I could send it to Colin. Before I was caught I got a message to a commercial office. Somewhere out there Colin will get this letter and hopefully hold onto it, so that the one friend I can remember the name of may find me and save me.

Tide goes in, tide goes out. Time does not, and sometimes I fear I am running out of it.

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