Walking in the fresh air and avoiding tea houses for a few days seemed to have stopped the visions. At least for a time.
Then they returned with a vengeance, almost as if their source was aware that I had attempted to shut them off. The fact that I had done just that ate at me, and likely fueled their attack once it came. But then, I seem to be central to this tale, so perhaps that is just what must be.
The alternative is to be just a puppet dancing on the strings of an unseen puppeteer. As if I were nothing more than a character in someone else’s story. Worse, perhaps even designed with reactions calculated to advance the plot. But if that is the truth, it is unthinkable. So it cannot possibly be true.
I am not a puppet. I have free will, and freedom of action. My intentions will carry on past my own demise. I’ve seen to that.
When the letters I’ve left scattered to the winds are gathered together, the truth will be evident.
Of course, actually doing the heavy lifting myself to bring the bright light of justice on those that set me on my current path sounds like hard work, and I don’t have the patience for that any more.
So I leave it to the world to work out the details.
I’ll be here.
Here, battling the visions from the deeps. Deep time. Deep space. Deep water. Deep and dark places where men fear to tread. Places occupied by things better left in the dark. Things that want out. Things that want to step off the page and settle in other minds.
Things that might have found a new home, if my trap has worked.