Lovely Martyrdom

It reminds me of that moment in the story when Gretta says to Gabriel " I think he died for me". Except I envision myself being that "He" dying for that dame. To speak true, I in fact dream and yearn to trade with the sick young boy sinking through the rain, fever taunting the bones to ache. Something lovely about that Arch Angel's death as well as tragic. I am lovely am I not? Or sullen in such spirits that the melancholy Dublin wind collects my Lifetoll for passage through the wet hills? Will I die for a face I recognize? "I think he died for me."...Died for me? He... Died... Me.

Where am I anyways?...I think I really am almost dead now. But not in my brain.It is real. I am the boy. I have crossed the threshold of the rain. I have arrived and my body is getting used to Hypothermia's companion. Not to mention that Consumption; the death taker of old, has almost completely devoured me... I am dying now. Dying... Slipping... Fading... Falling.

However Irony is rising with a vengeance!

You throw the blanket around my body and walk me back to my lodgings... through cold and disease, but you are not strong like me. We arrive. I am warm now. You are cold now. Like I was. Like the boy was. Like Michael was. You leave. The toll of the hills is paid. You die... I think you died for me...........and then it began to snow.