A Found Letter:
Dearest Uncle,
The night shift at the factory is becoming a great burden for me. Ever since I moved to Backwards City and started at the Gearbone Foundry, I have rarely had a moment where I felt fully alive. There is a constant soreness in my muscles and a scratching in my throat. But these I accept as a badge, the ache of any worker trying to buy his bread and send monies home to his family. In fact, when I grew up on the farm, I often carried these pains upon me, and they seemed to be filled with an echo of sweetness. No, the pains now are different, and the thrum of the factory bleeds through my skull even when I am not there. The worst is what is happening to my eyes; I see flashes of light and color, and images seem to me more jagged and distorted. The statue of the Magistrate in the City Square, which seemed to me at first the very pinnacle of progress and civilization, now looks like a jagged old stone, indistinct, faceless, colorless. As I was walking through the Square to work just last night (and this, dearest Uncle, you must never share with a living soul) I seemed to see a most impossible sight. The crows that circle the statue were, how do I say this without the implication of my own lunacy; they all flew forwards uncle. All of them, circling headfirst, and splitting the air with their beaks. I felt terrified and ecstatic. Something is happening. Happening to me, and, dare I even write it, happening to all of Backwards City...
Yrs in Blood,
Nephew Vladimir
# posted by
Josh Exoo @ 10:59 AM
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