What has gotten into me? (3)
Everything is ready.
I have the papers here, signed in full. I’ve checked over all the details.
It’s all here.
Those books, they told me everything I needed to do. I knew they were in the basement somewhere, stuffed in boxes. Gathering everything I needed was quite a struggle. Hallmark closed down recently, so I had to go out of town to buy the candles. Fresh ones. They burn fast with all of the fat, but it’s to be expected. When I tried this once before the soot got caked all over my blinds. It was unpleasant, the stench carried on everything for weeks – but it was worth it for this.
The wind is awful. She’s howling. I can’t hear myself think.
I’ve taken a marker and outlined the proper pattern on my floor. I used a ruler and everything. Made sure the distances were just perfect. All of the proper symbols were etched in with care, too. Measure twice, cut once, you know? I transferred them directly from the books with some wax paper and a good ceramic knife. Like I said, the reagents were tough to find, so I certainly didn’t want to go through the trouble of grabbing any more than I needed. The satisfaction I get from doing everything properly is quite great. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thrilled. Would you believe I could feel myself salivating as I traced out all of the details?
I hate flies. This work makes them come from just about everywhere. They jet and buzz around, landing on my brow every so often. Disgusting things. I think they are attracted to the fat. Or maybe the stench.
It’s awful. Absolutely awful. Will you stop howling?
The blood is smeared everywhere, just as directed. I was never good at those paint-by-numbers books as a kid, so I really hope I did everything here like I was supposed to. I’d hate to have to run out and do it again. The last time I didn’t even make it halfway through before I lit everything on fire. The soot got everywhere, absolutely everywhere. I had it in my hair for weeks. The stench is still there, too. I tried asking a nice, young woman in the supermarket what the best thing for something like that was. She didn’t know. She never does. It’s always a struggle with her. Absolutely worthless, what was I thinking with those candles? The wicks weren’t long enough. Everything went up.
I can see the moon now, coming up over the trees outside my open window. I wouldn’t quite call it bright, but it is distracting. I can’t look at it. It takes my mind off of my work. The wind is coming in, giving me quite a chill. I have goose bumps.
The fireplace is going, too. The embers have always been absolutely engaging to me. You can watch each flame lick at the walls for hours, just enjoying the colors they project everywhere. I used to play a game as a kid where I would flick my hand past the fire as fast as I could, trying to feel the heat without getting burned. Then my skin charred and it was awful, but I got over it and did it again. You have to get used to the smell of ashes anyway, so might as well start on yourself.
I am getting irritated. You can’t gag the wind. It specifically states not to. The cries are supposed to bring everything forward. Still doesn’t make it any better or less annoying. It’s childish. Why can’t she just be quiet? Why can’t she just leave me alone? Be calm, like me. Let it rest. Stop howling.
All of the candles are now burning, just like you asked. Your mark is on my floor and now I’m digging in with the knife.
Take my flesh.
Give me my gift.