In this life there is no reason for things.  We may assign happenings to fate, or destiny, or to simple chance.  But there are no reasons, and nothing makes sense.  For anyone who tries to make sense of the world, they are only wasting time.  Though, time in itself is not even reasonable.  Time always moves and we think it must always move on.  Yet still, time changes, and becomes an entity of its own.  What I am about to tell, is not something that people will speak of.  I am alone and these words may never even make it to another soul.  Perhaps they will never finish, and sit upon the table forever.  Someone may find the writing and never know what was to be written.  Find my cold hand wrapped around a pen.  Maybe it will be finished and shall burn or crumble as many things do.  Even the greatest of kingdoms succumb to the relentless works of nature with wind that can tear away buildings and earthquakes that can crack the very ground on which we stand.  But still I write.  And perhaps it will reach somebody.  To whoever may read this know that these words come from one who has seen more than enough for one lifetime.  This story is one that was never meant for humanity to hear.  And it will be spoken, words that fall from lips that were never meant to speak them.  Words spoken by those who will never understand them.  Still though, it is a story.  And stories must be told.  Lest they be forgotten, and become nothing at all.

I do not know why I was saved.  And I am sure that nobody could ever tell you why it was.  But, as I said, there are no reasons.  Everything simply happens and we cannot explain it.  Then, I did not care though.  This was all long ago.  A time before you were born, long before then.  In a time when men spoke in languages long since lost.  And they lived in lands so changed now, that you would think you looked upon another world if you saw them.  I know it must seem improbable to some, and impossible to most... but, this is where the story begins.  And truly, I do not know why I was saved.

My memory is fading now, I fear soon it will be gone.  So I shall write this quickly before I am nothing more than dust.  When the myths of humanity were young, I walked the earth as a man.  A true man, not like what I have become.  Nature was pure and man had not spoiled the earth with his poisons at that time.  And I walked among the men that were all true men.  I could not have known what was to come.  None of us could.  I walked out one day to the hilltop that looks out across the green land.  A few friends beside me, we watched the wind caress the wheat gently.  Clouds rolled past, fluffy white against a sky of wondrous blue.  We stood and we watched, and we wondered.  Thought of things that would be made in years to come, and some things that would be forgotten.  We did not know any of this, and so we simply thought.  It is funny now, when I think of the words that I thought in.  The language which I used.  I have not heard it for so long, I have not even thought or dreamt in that language since it died.  But I can still remember it, and I must be the only one.  Soon, soon it will be lost forever.

We spoke to eachother in the language since lost, and we looked out across the land.  The land was not ours, but it belonged to everyone.  The land owned us, and we were merely visitors to the mighty earth.  And we were thankful that mother earth allowed us to stay upon the land of her’s.  When the skies darkened we did not know what to do.  We ran down the hill into the village.  Shouted to the people as they sat in their mudhuts, as if they were unaware of the change.  The earth had angered, and we felt her roar.  The sound echoed far into the reaches of the sky, and on across the horizon.  Then the earth shook, so violently we feared she might break apart, fall away into infinity.  Somewhere, we knew the gods must be looking on, hoping mother earth would not collapse.  We cried out for help from whomever may have heard.  But there was no answer.  Only the shaking of the earth that rattled our bones.  I watched as men and women clutched eachother for comfort.  They cried, cried in what must have been our final hours.  Looking on across the once welcoming lands I watched the sides of the valley that sheltered us shatter.  Rocks and dirt came tumbling down and crashed into the land.  Some where crushed then, and I wonder if perhaps they were relieved that they did not live through what was to come.  The sky grew darker still, until we could barely see.  The earth herself began to crack then, and I heard the screams of those who fell through.  I knew I was to die as the rest of them, and all I could think to do was to look to the blackness and scream for the gods.  Shout out in my fear to the heavens above.  It was then when the hands of mother earth reached out from the cracks.  And I was swallowed by the earth.

There was darkness within the earth, so dark I could not see.  Yet, there was warmth.  Nurturing warmth that made me think this must be what an unborn child feels.  The earth had angered, and she had taken me back, cleansed the land.  I imagined my fate was coming soon, just as the villagers who fell forever and the ones crushed without a chance.  I sat there in the warmth, waiting.  The hands reached for me again and dragged me further through the inner earth.  I opened my mouth to yell again, but words did not come out.  I felt the earth take me, and reach inside of me.  I do not remember after that.  Simply a blank spot in my memory.

Then I opened my eyes to light.  I wondered if I were dead perhaps, had awoken on the other side... But, I then felt the cool grass in my fingers and took a look around.  I was in a village, and there were people.  Not my people though, they wore odd clothing and lived in houses of wood.  They spoke a language I had never heard, and I seemed invisible to them.  I learned the language, and that is what I speak still now.  For it is still around.  Still, I am not exactly sure why the earth kept me so long.  And left me, out of my time and place.  Though now, I am sure it was not the earth.  It was darkness which took me.  Darkness which kept me from the angered earth.  But darkness comes with prices.  I became part of the darkness myself.  I craved for something, I was never fulfilled until I killed.  I took the blood of humans.  Only those who could see me, I would lure away.  Then take their life for my own, their blood became part of me.  This, and only this satisfied my cravings.  That is what the darkness makes of man.  When the earth would anger, the darkness would take me back again.  And set me free out of place and out of time.  It was always the same.  You may know me, I go by many names.  From those different times and places where the darkness leaves me.  I suppose you must have heard one name at least... they called me the Ripper I believe.

But I am tired of this all.  I never wished for the darkness, and I will not go back.  Though, I know without the darkness my life will end, as the others I knew long ago.  I do not care.  I wish not to remain in darkness anymore.  Whatever may happen, I surrender now to mother earth.  And I will not slaughter again for these cravings.  I suppose that brings relief to this brittle body.  I must look a sight now.  Skin and bones and perhaps a bit of blood may be left.  Now I grow cold, and my hands are no longer moving right.  So my words must grow short.  I have finished now, so whatever may happen is out of my hands.  My life is leaving me now.  Whoever may see this when you found my bones, aeons old, please bring them back to my village if you find it.  It is where the earth was cracked and torn.  And remember, do not give yourself to the darkness.  It’s a life that’s not worth living.  

My eyesight fades, and I am aging as I write.  I feel everything draining away.  Life itself draining like the blood of the victims I drank for those cravings.  As I die I wonder if I should’ve died and given myself to the angered earth long ago.  I wonder why I was saved...