Necronomicon: They're Just Burning Memories & Notes From A Certain Scotsman

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Frozen Feathers

Don’t die. For God’s sake, don’t die.

I cried out as Anja stepped off the window with a smile.

Snow fell from outside like the day she faded.

All seemed too quiet–too eerily placid.

My breath held itself again. Frozen feathers floated down like fallen, lifeless angels. Anja’s body swept the autumnal breeze from its natural flow, hitting every nerve of mine and reverberating even to the present.

I’m seeking warmth from myself as I count seconds since I came alert. The bed feels too heavy for comfort, yet unable to protect me from bleak air.

No text from Sawney. No text from Penny. No email from Sawney. No email from Schmidt. I’m well aware they are busy minding their business; who am I kidding? After all, they won’t sense my needs unless I take action and reach out to them.

Holding my hand up, it reduces to finer and finer particles, shivering webs of non-solid molecules. The next level down, these atoms became barely physical. I watch it desperately cling by a thread. It winks in and out of existence as quantums shift from virtual to intact. My hand went from something to nothing; yet all the same it went from nothing to something.

Growing up in Magdeburg, I had strong memories of school taught by Catholic missionaries. The Old Testament wasn’t a light read––I came away remembering sin, laws, wars, lamentations, and plagues. But there’s a verse very early on, after the seven days of creation, in which God was walking in the Garden of Eden in the cool of day (Genesis 3:8). God was still on good terms with Adam and Eve, and the moment was perfect for casual conversation. The truth was, the two humans weren’t there, in shame of their nakedness. But imagining the conversation they would one day ask a crucial question:

‘Why did you do it? Why did you create the world?’

In reply, God would answer, somewhat sheepishly:

‘There was no reason. I just had to. I couldn’t help myself.’

There couldn’t be a better answer. The world exists because it has to. To have God as always existing is the right answer: if God had a beginning, it would be far too troublesome to trace everything back to its origins. It isn’t only the Bible I’m believing in, it’s my intuition. It’s the one theory to keep ourselves sane instead of running and colliding like pool balls.

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