Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #22 January 2016 | Page 35

The diary of my life
Valery Riddle
In my dreams the first words always form the last
sentence

Today I have realised something that goes
against everything I believed in, and this revelation
has brought me down to my knees.
Is it even allowed to feel the way I feel about
betrayal? Betrayal is what I call it. I don’t even
hesitate with the choice of words. Nor do I hesitate
with admitting my emotions.
The day I never knew would come is here. I’d
have to rip out my eyes and slash off my ears to forget
what has happened. I’d have to submit myself to the
inquisition and publicly burn myself at the stake. I’d
have to if I didn’t feel what I feel.
I look at my hands, covered in cuts from the
shards of my broken belief, at the bright drops of my
blood, sliding down my wrists - and I love this feeling
of utter awe that goes through me.
Believe it or not, the way I suddenly see the
world around me is nothing like before. It is as if
the window has been cleaned after a long winter and
spring is raving behind it.
In this omen, I see new sides of my belief.
Where before there was fire, now there is eternity and
sweet oblivion. And I know what I see is blasphemy.
And I feel liberated by it.
My soul sings when I think about the things I
have seen today. I cannot unsee them, nor do I wish

to. The figures of all that is good and evil alike seem
closer to my inner eye now. I have talked to them. I
have understood them.
God knows what this revelation is going to
bring me. I have been told impossible and yet true
things. I have been told what cannot happen and yet it
has in front of my very eyes.
The most marvellous thing has happened to
me today, and it has opened my eyes. I have talked to
the evil and helped the good. I have walked the paths
no one was allowed to before me. I have been born
anew. I have tasted the impossible. I have heard the
unimaginable. Rest assured…

I considered myself lucky to have survived the
illness that still rages around the world. Many have
succumbed to it, but I still live, and I still create.
Listen, when leaves fall off the trees; encasing
them in words is the most marvellous gift I have. Their
rustle sings to me in tune with the pages of books
turning. The sound lulls me