Dear Phantom Man,

I wholeheartedly accept death, which I believe will refresh my bones. These parts will be rolled carefully in the ground and, one day, after their rest and sanitization, they will be heaved back up again. My parts are an extension of the planet. I will be another Earthly creature one day. I nourish my internal gods, who are powerful enough now, I can proudly say, to have spread their wings. They exist everywhere. They are vibrant underground, where the dead creatures live. They are inseparable from my closest friends, the worms and bugs.

I am one with nature in other words, so I have no reason to be afraid of it. Rather I am afraid of unnatural things- unnatural patterns between people.

This obstruction I face in my life is more harrowing than death could ever be. Death is natural, whereas the patterns between us are unnatural. I am a curved and utterly skewed being, and I know that one day you will stop coming to visit. I am a wretched troll, essentially no more than a thin remnant, because of how deeply alone I am.

I am terribly lonely. An eternal, holy dialogue exists between myself and the other Earthly creatures, and yet I curl up every night alone in this same cold corner. Fifty years I have been here. You are huge and full, and your spirit echoes high into the atmosphere. Soon you will notice that every second you spend with me degrades your soul.

This is why I am terrified. You are the only man I know, and the more you come here, the more, I am certain, you are hollowed out. I am convinced that your warm, loving nature is being soaked up in here. You are a little cub who has found his way into the bitter forests of life. I do not know why. I am hurt by the thought of it. I hope you go away- the Earth and I are busy enough.


The Troll