Monday, September 26, 2011


Jessica Mathers

Born April 25, 1991
Died September 25, 2011

That's not exactly right. I don't know when Jessica died. But that's when I killed the thing that looked like her.
This is the part where I suppose I should tell you who Jessica was. But that's a little too close to home. There's too much of my own history in there to manage anything reasonable.
So instead, I'm going to tell you how I felt about her.

Jessica was magnificent. She had more grace in any limb you care to name then I had in my entire body.
She was in theatre, but she wanted to work with props and set. I don't know why. She had the talent for the stage. Was she shy or- off topic. She looks... looked, gorgeous. Red hair. She wore it braided. I only ever saw her hair loose a few times. It looked like her head was on- it was gorgeous. I never understood why she braided it either.
I always did have a thing for red hair.
But it wasn't just physical. She had a smile that would brighten up a room in an instant. She is the only woman I'd ever met who could quote Monty Python well. She had this wonderful voice. Cracked jokes, sang, whistled, she gave people hugs. That was one of the best things.
She was a brilliant, brilliant woman. Costuming, make-up, props. She taught me those.
It's my fault she's dead now.
I suppose it's a poor thank-you to have killed her.

I suppose you could say we obsessed over her. A romantic might say he loved her. I'm not sure.
It was complicated. Horribly so. I loved every minute of it. we-I never told her.

She was this ray of sunshine.
And then she was a proxy.
And then she burned.
I suppose it was my fault.
I think I'm the last one now.
I'm almost certain of it.


  1. Not quite. You know where to contact me.
    I'll be waiting.

  2. It's official. I have no idea what is going on in this blog.

  3. Ben, to be honest, neither do I, and now Nemo's in my House and-

    Fuck. Once I get The Wing in order it seems I have to do a write up.