The Death Seer (Skeleton Key) Read Online Free PDF Page B

 
    I took one at random and sat on his bed to read it. It was from the year he turned nineteen. As I skimmed, I witnessed a sort of time-lapse view of mundane life in the underworld. What he had for breakfast. The neighbor he had to help move the day before. The girl who flirted with him in the coffee shop.  
    It all seemed so normal. The neatly formed print perfectly aligned and even. But not all the pages were like this. I stopped when I found a section full of haphazard scrawl falling off the lines and filling up the page from edge-to-edge like the hand of a mad man.
    …I can’t wash the air off no matter how hard I scrub, this place clings to me like a parasite. How long have I been here? How long have I been here? How long have I been here?…
    This went on for a full page.
    There’s no end when you can’t even slit your wrists or pull a trigger or swallow some pills. The only thing worse than here is where she is and even then, if I thought it would be an end I’d go there. If I thought I’d sleep peacefully for all eternity, I’d gladly go there. The living should rejoice in their ignorance. They think they’ll die and that’ll be the end. How happy it must be, believing in an end. I’d go mad, here, but what would be the point?
    I flipped further back.
    It occurs to me that I’ll never really know if the version of Great Expectations I’m reading is the real version. It was only assimilated out of the memories of the dead, and perhaps their memories aren’t perfect. Does Dickens himself even fully remember what he wrote? Perhaps even with all of them remembering, there are still holes…gaps…flaws. What would it even mean if I were reading the real thing? Would that be real? Perhaps the living world is still yet another layer of existence. Perhaps there was more before it, a higher state of living and we just keep falling and falling through the layers forever…
    I stood and replaced the book. I grabbed the most recent volume. But no, this one wasn’t the most recent. I turned and saw a book on his nightstand. Of course it would be there, he would still be writing in it. I picked it up, sat back down on the bed, and opened it to the most recent entry. It wasn’t one of the rambling scrawls. It was a neatly penned documentation of his thoughts and actions.
    Need to go shopping today. My refrigerator is empty. There’s so little pleasure in food.
    I think I’ll go over to the tavern, tonight, and play cards and drink beer. It’s been a while and those guys are always a lot of fun to be around. There’s Margaret, too. If she’s sober, maybe I’ll get lucky.”
    I slammed the book shut. No doubt if there’d been a mirror in front of me, I’d see myself sneering in derision. He was getting lucky right now. It didn’t appear he had a problem finding bedfellows here in the underworld. Not that it was any of my concern.
    I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes. It couldn’t be more than early afternoon, yet I felt like I’d been awake for days.  
    Perhaps I only drifted, or maybe it was a long nap, but I was awakened by a hand gently shaking me. “Brenna, we need to go.”
    “Where?” I asked, still reorienting myself.
    “King’s Hall. I took a little longer with the girls than I expected and we need to get to our destination before nightfall.”
    Stiffly I sat up and swung my legs off the bed. “I was under the impression that night didn’t fully fall, here.”
    “It’s not the darkness I’m concerned about. There are nocturnal creatures. Most people know to be inside and locked down by the time the light dims. Are you ready?”
    I gathered my bag, checked the little pocket on the side to make sure the key was still there, and slung it over my shoulder. “You sure the ‘girls’ will be okay without you?”
    His arrogant smirk might have been charming if I weren’t so disgusted by his behavior.  
    I followed him out the door, which he locked closed behind us, and then onto the