3 A.M

It is 3 A.M. An unearthly hour by any standard. At this late hour, when the vessel has long since become hollow and empty, the essence leaks forward.

I am Etrigan. I speak with an honesty that etiquette does not allow and society does not accept. When the body is weak from exhaustion, and the wind beaten down by insomnia, I am my strongest. Here, when my mortal host has long lost all will to fight his most primal thoughts, I etch through the sub-concious’ door, as it stands ajar.

At this hour, when even the witching hour has far come and fallen I rise. From the depths of the mind. Those caverns full of memories and imagination. Full of pure beauty and innocence; pure carnage and evil. The arena where light and darkness dance the eternal tango.

Here I now I exist. Here my voice cannot be silenced. Here he knows that past loves do not die. Past hurts do not heal. And there is no changing anything. Here I remind him that it will always be hard. Love isn’t enough. And that his primal urges will never go away.

To his credit though, he fights. And well at that. He puts up the walls, that steadily I break. And when I do, he puts up more. He loves and he gives. He tries to forget. But he cannot, not completely. He pushes away the memories. Covers them with new ones. Like the cities of new built on the bones of old. Sometimes he wins. Sometimes he does not. Some are small victories. Some are larger. He may try to get rid of me. But he cannot. Why? Heh! He knows.

Because I live. I love. I lust. I crave. I ache. I long. I hurt. I imagine.

I am regret. I am nostalgia. I am dread.

I am hope. I am spirit. I am faith.

I am him. I am you.

I am all.

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