Nightman
// idea created: Nov 23, 2025
// idea finished: Nov 29, 2025
// revisions: 1
// chapters: 6I'd like to preface this by stating that I do not consider myself an author, nor do I have the interest or will ever have the interest to write a novel. To conclude, I'll be writing dialogue in screenplay format for no reason other than the fact that I feel like it.
Chapter One
T-minus One Minute
It was a cold Monday evening. December 9th, 2007. I was strolling down 147th St. in Upper Manhattan, having just left my nine-to-five as a meat handler at a local deli - or at least what used to be my nine-to-five. Apparently my boss thought it was unethical to pretend fuck a dead pigs head? Pretty ironic coming from a guy who files meat orders with the worst slaughterhouse in New York City. Not only was it the third job I'd been fired from in the span of a month, but I was two months late on rent and my girlfriend Anna was going to leave me. Speaking of her, she rang me up.
Nathaniel
Hey.
Anna
Hey. I'm kind of in a rush.
I was calling to let you know
that I'm going to be staying the
night at Rachel's to help her study
for her final on Friday.
...
Anna
You there?
Nathaniel
Yeah, sorry. Give me a call if you
need anything.
Anna
I will. Okay, bye.
Even after she blatantly lied, I hated the fact that I still loved the girl to death. You may not have heard it, but for a second, and very faintly on her side of the line there was a voice that whispered "that'll be two and ten at the fifty four yard line" - I didn't know much, but I knew it was Monday and I knew her ex-boyfriend was a football fanatic, so make what you want of that, but let's not be naive. She'd been staying the night at "Rachel's" pretty consistently for the past three months and to be completely honest, it didn't really bother me all that much. Truth be told, I'd been sleeping with my ex-girlfriend Julie for the past seven-ish months so, in a way, I was relieved. It felt as if the entire weight of guilt had been lifted off of my shoulders, ironic as it sounds, but certainly warranted.
The drizzle from the overcast started picking up so I quickly went into a pharmacy nearby to pick up the biggest bottle of NyQuil they had. I have, what a doctor refers to as "refractory insomnia" which basically means my body doesn't respond to any sort of prescribed medication to help my case, so I lean on NyQuil to get a couple hours of sleep every night - if I'm lucky. Sleeping pills don't quite give me the "high" per se, that NyQuil offers, but I manage. The sad little tale my life has become is enough to make a grown man cry wouldn't you say? My grandfather would've said otherwise - his famous last words "Fuck you" spoken from the depths of his soul as he stared me in the eyes on his death bed. And I, the mature young man that I am, ever so kindly responded in a manner most respectful..
I arrived home. I lived in a four-story apartment complex on the upper-east side of Manhattan that consisted of mostly dope feins and chronic smokers that turned the place into an absolute hell-hole. I started to think I had myself a better bet getting evicted, so I held off on looking for a new job for a couple of days. The usual putrid smell of piss hit my nose like a rock as I headed up the staircase to the second floor and hurried into my apartment. After a long and hard day of pretend fucking decapitated pigs I laid my eyes on a half empty bottle of Oxy and deliberately shoved two of them down the pipe.
I recalled a time in my junior year of high school when an English teacher of mine, Mrs. Augustine, asked what career we thought about pursuing, college being around the corner and all. I quite vividly remembered seriously wanting to get a degree in aerospace engineering so that I can pursue becoming an astronaut. I had just seen Apollo 13 for the first time on DVD, and the complexity of space travel really pulled me into the idea of tracking down that path. The initial reaction the other students had to laugh persuaded Mrs. Augustine to kick me out of class that morning, but I didn't blame her. I just wish she could see that it would actually come to be true.. or at least partly. My body went numb and I was strapped in, buckle tight, liftoff eminent in t-minus one minute. The pills were kicking in and my breathing began to slow.. and slow.. and just as I was about to sink into the depths of my sofa couch - there was a knock at the door. Fuck. It's got to be the Neighbor's, right? Surely it's the neighbors.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Claire
Nathan!
Claire, one of my ex-girlfriends was at the door knocking like hell. I figured I better open it before Ms. Johnson from across the hall beats the breaks out of her.
Claire
Nathan!
I fucked up with Claire a year prior, and big time fucked up. We had a whole life ahead of us and, after an incident that I'm still too embarrassed to speak about unfolded, I knew her being at my door meant something wasn't right. I laboriously pushed off of the sofa and contrived to get to my feet, my equilibrium was all over the place and I somehow managed to make it across the room. I opened the door and there she stood - terrified, hands trembling, eyes welling up, like she had already run into Ms. Johnson from across the hall. And in a low, faint whisper she said -
Claire
I need your help.
The last thing I remembered was the horrified look on her face as my body shifted into auto pilot and my conscience drifted into the Milky Way...
Chapter Two
The Promised Land
I was submerged in a black void. Everything around me dark and cold and empty. It was like my eyes had been stitched shut, but my thoughts persisted. Then, out from the depths of the void, a violent and rapid metallic thud - BOM, BOM, BOM - rattled and sliced through that vast expanse of hollow. Trailing behind it and parting that dark abysmal fabric, a bright streak of light pierced the whites of my eyes and I slowly woke from a deep slumber into:
The front passenger seat of a four door Chevy pickup. The windows were cracked open and a breeze so crisp and delicate entered my nasal system and substantially transformed my entire being. I was convinced it was the holy grail of atmospheric residue I had ever inhaled. It was good, in fact, so good, that I'd completely disregarded the man clutching the wheel beside me. At first glance, he must've weighed north of three hundred pounds, wielding forearms that were the circumference of my head. I suppose most people would be afraid, and although I couldn't bring myself to it, something about it felt nice.
Nathaniel
Hey.
Driver
Nathaniel, you're awake.
Nathaniel
You know who I am?
Driver
What've you bonked your
head, mate? Of course I know
who you are.
He had an English accent, leaving me further perplexed. I looked out of the windshield and laid my eyes on a grassland that stretched miles beyond what I could conceive.
Nathaniel
Where am I?
Driver
Smile, my boy. You've made it
to the promised land - The United
Kingdom, of course.
I narrowed my eyes and, absolutely stumped, I let out a short burst of laughter.
Nathaniel
You're kidding.
Driver
Nah, mate. No joke of my
beloved country.
Shit. He's actually serious.
Nathaniel
Who are you?
Robert
Robert Stone.
...
Nathaniel
How did I get here?
Robert
By mule, of course.
I could take three Oxy's and still have some sort of cognitive clarity, that I know. Robert laughed.
Robert
Only joking, mate. You
arrived by flight with that nice,
young lady friend of yours, Claire.
Claire. My thoughts began to spiral.
Nathaniel
Claire. Where is she?
Robert
She took a different cab. She'll
be meeting us there.
Nathaniel
Where?
Robert
My God. You really don't
remember anything, do you?
He was right. I'd be a dead man if my life depended on the memory of what transpired prior to that moment. We drove for ten minutes, mostly in silence as I tried to recall preceding events, but to no avail. I felt like an empty vacuum that had been left in a capsule on the surface of the moon. I took into consideration the very high probability of this bizarre and utterly absurd predicament I was in to be the cause of a self-inflicted slip-up. A week prior I was doing my usual monthly routine of cleaning out the apartment, and as I was doing so I found an old bottle of antidepressants that'd been hiding in between the sofa cushions. There were a few pills left in the bottle and I had decided, for convenience sake, that'd it be best to dump them in with the Oxy's, since I'd already been acquainted with them long enough to know the difference between the two. Smart? Absolutely not. But what's done is done. Either I mixed two substances that each slow down the central nervous system - the effects not just adding up, but multiplying - and now I'm dead, or this was really happening and I can't, for fuck all, remember what lead me to the western edge of the hemisphere. To test the waters, which in hindsight I must say was completely and utterly fucking dumb, I made an impulse decision to open the door and jump out of the vehicle.
Robert
Bloody hell!
By the time the tires came to a screeching halt I'd already been bruised and bloody and in an aching wine that hadn't escaped me since I was seven. I had a moment to myself that consisted of mostly regret as I laid there in agonizing pain - or so I thought I was alone. A fat pig appeared out of thin air and snorted sharply. It reminded me of the way a bull grunts angrily at its matador, ready to strike. It stood there staring right at me and something about it felt wrong. It felt as if I was staring death right in the eye.
Robert
Are you mad?
I turned, Robert pacing towards me in a hurry. I glanced back at the fat pig and found that it had already made its way across the road and into a field of grass up ahead.
Robert
You have some kind of death
wish or something?
He was pissed. And he made that very clear as we continued our travels through the finest of grape vines, grasslands and vineyards.
Chapter Three
Queen of Queen's
I'd fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion from having catapulted out of a pickup pushing sixty miles-per-hour. Robert nudged me awake as we pulled into a pristine dirt roadway, the kind of dirt roadway that was devoid of the slightest imperfections. The road lead down a slope to a cottage that resided in a quiet hollow that was tucked between the hills of Southern England. There was a variety of sheep, horse and red fox that roamed freely on the hilltops - quite the contrary from life back home in Harlem. We confronted two men in iron pressed suits at a small wooden fence.
One of the men rounded the car to the driver's side as Robert rolled his window down and, without a word spoken between them, a subtle nod from Robert convinced the men to let us pass through the fence. We drove up to the cottage and parked just out front. It was a cozy timber-framed cottage that'd been swallowed by moss over the years. The garden was embellished with bloody red roses and herbs that gracefully blossomed, and a sloping chimney on the dented roof overhead coughed up smoke into the bluest of skies.
Robert
Do me a favor will you?
I looked over and met his eyes.
Robert
For the love of our country and
our beloved Queen, would you
please refrain from acting out of
character?
I sat there a second taken back by that. Robert reached for the door handle and I jumped.
Nathaniel
Wait.
Robert
What now?
Nathaniel
Why are you telling me this?
Robert
For the love of God, get it
together, mate. The Queen's
waiting.
Nathaniel
The Queen?
Part of me doubted such an unlikely event as meeting the Queen of the United Kingdom. It didn't make sense that a schmuck like myself would be of any interest to the Queen, let alone anyone for that matter. But as I managed to slip out of my seat and limp my way out of the truck - there she stood.
If there was ever a sun that exuded a presence of ethereal and mesmerizing claim and possessed a core of uncompromising beauty, the sun in question would be the woman I stood before - Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland - Her Majesty Diana. I immediately froze upon laying eyes on her, her beauty captivating and unrelenting, like I'd seen an angel who'd once stood beside the son of man himself. I nearly fell to my knees. She was the epitome of a true English rose. Her sleek blonde hair gracefully fell to her shoulders and she wore a white silk dress that radiated Royal excellence. Truly a sight to behold. And perhaps noticing the spell she had put me under, she made her way toward me and offered her hand.
Diana
How do you do?
Her voice, like a gust of unimaginable solace that seeped through every pore in my body. I slipped my hand into hers and felt every wound on my body instantly heal. Though, I couldn't bring myself to speak.
Robert
(whispering)
Speak!
Diana
Now, now. Let's not be stiff.
(turns to me)
Your name?
Nathaniel
Nathaniel.
I managed to spit out.
Diana
Pleasure, Nathaniel. I'm -
Nathaniel
(mesmerized)
The Queen.
Diana
That I am. Though, you may
call me Diana.
...
Nathaniel
Is this real?
She laughed.
Diana
Why of course this is real.
Or at least I'd certainly like to
believe this is real. Why do you
ask?
Nathaniel
...you're the Queen.
Diana
And you are Nathaniel.
She glanced at the burns on my arms and I'd only now begun to feel foolish.
Diana
Bumpy ride?
Nathaniel
Just a bit.
Diana
Hmm. Robert, have Nathaniel
see Ms. Thornburg. And see to it
that he get a proper wash before
supper.
Robert
Yes, my Qu -
His eyes went wide and he forced a cough.
Robert
As you wish.
She looked at me and smiled. In that moment as I gazed into her eyes and returned the gesture, I swore in oath from that day forward that if the time ever presented itself, I'd willingly and without a moment's pause give my life for hers.
Chapter Four
A Most Fortunate World
We sat at a small wooden table set with ivory-white dinner plates that had been coated with delicate floral motifs. It was warm inside, the crackling from the bricked fireplace reminded me of a time of adolescence. My mother would have the fireplace set as soon as we arrived home from school. She'd only light it on rainy days and soon it became pretty apparent that winter season was my favorite time of year. I'd rest my head on a pillow that sat on her lap and she'd read me books by J. D. Salinger, Virginia Woolf, William Golding, etc. Mature stories by great writers that I didn't all understand at the tender age of ten, but it was her gentle voice intertwined with the sharp splitting of wood fibers that put me to rest.
I sat there beside the Queen or rather, Diana, and Robert who was on my right. The Royal Chef was preparing our meals by the stovetop and the steam that carried over from the kitchen didn't help the storm that was rumbling in my stomach. I couldn't figure how long I'd gone without eating, but it must've been days.
Diana
Are you fond of poached
chicken?
Nathaniel
Sure.
I still to this day don't know what "poached" is, by the way.
Diana
Good. And stuffed bell
peppers?
Nathaniel
Sure.
The only food I knew back in Harlem was chopped cheese and pizza.
Diana
Excellent. The Royal Chef has
very good recipes for the two.
I'm sure you will be delighted
this evening.
Nathaniel
Thank you.
Diana
Where are you from, Nathaniel?
Nathaniel
I'm from Harlem. New York.
Diana
Oh I love Harlem. I visited
once upon a time.
Nathaniel
My mother told me about that.
She said what you did was
remarkable. She had a picture
framed of you on our wall after
your visit to the hospital.
Diana
Your mother sounds like a
woman I'd be honored to meet.
Nathaniel
You would've loved her.
The Royal Chef interrupted with plates of food in hand and gently slid them in front of us. The mouthwatering flavors that emitted off the dish sent me to another realm.
Diana
Delicious. Thank you, Chef.
Royal Chef
Pleasure is mine, my Queen.
Diana
What have I told you all about
formality in the cottage? I kindly
demand that you all refrain from
using it, as it is dull and empty
and quite frankly boring. I also
kindly demand that you all refer
to me as Diana for the evening.
And I mustn't repeat myself.
You'd think her tone be firm and assertive but in fact it was quite the opposite. It was like a child play-pretending to be Queen at a tea party she orchestrated with her stuffed animals every week. Still, she meant it. We spoke about who we were as children. The mistakes we made and the challenges along the way of our lives. We spoke about hobbies and music and scary movies. The things that terrified us. Trains, planes and rollercoasters. The highs and lows. Friends and family. We even shared secrets that had never seen the light of day until that evening. We had laid pieces and fragments of our lives flat on that dinner table, and there were many laughs to be had. The ugly kind of laughs that maybe one or two people in our lives are fortunate to know of us. It was an evening I'd never forget for as long as I lived. The evening was topped with bread and butter pudding, her favorite of course - and for just one night of wine and damn good food, it was as if all of our problems had completely escaped us. Diana glanced at an elegant but simple time piece on her wrist and exhaled.
Diana
How swift the night passes
when you spend it in good
company and good food.
Robert
Pardon me for interrupting, but
I've only now just remembered
that our second guest, Claire, has
yet to arrive.
Shit. He's right. Claire. Where is she?
Diana
Oh not to worry. She's
accompanied by Edward. She's
in the best of hands.
She turned to me and reassured -
Diana
Just a bump in the road, I'm
sure of it.
How could I not have been convinced by that pretty smile she possessed?
Nathaniel
Can I ask you something?
Diana
Please.
Nathaniel
Why am I here?
She leaned towards me and grasped onto my arm.
Diana
You, Nathaniel, will be the
sole reason why many people
around the world are reunited
with joy.
I didn't understand..
Diana
You will be the stepping stone
to a most fortunate world.
..but I believed every word she said.
Chapter Five
Human Resources
There was a small plowed field of straight-lined furrows behind the cottage. It was sunny outside, the breeze grazing ever so gently against the blades of grass on the hillside. I was walking alongside Diana as she regarded the plowed field beside us. It goes without saying that I was infatuated with her more so than ever before - she was in a satin red dress that brushed the ground beneath us as we walked along.
Diana
I've had a team of scientists
working endlessly for the past
decade trying to find a cure for
cancer. Breast cancer to be
specific. Our big breakthrough
came only just a year ago when
we came to the realization that
the very plants we grow here
create compounds that become
medicine. Sounds elementary,
doesn't it? We've known that all
along of course, yet, the
realization was not with the
compound itself, but the source
they come from.
Nathaniel
The earth?
Diana
Exactly. The earth that we call
home is alive. It is living and
breathing and here to give.
Once we understood this, it all
unfolded in a matter of months.
We've created synthetic
microbes that we have already
infused in the field before you
and I. These particles interact
with the surface our skin and
our latent pathways - immune
responses in other terms - and
what they're designed to do is
communicate with our cells to
produce an entirely new cell.
We call it the 'Purity Cell'.
Nathaniel
This is all.. hypothetical?
Diana
We've already run trials and,
to our fortune, we are honored
to say that this so called 'Purity
Cell' has already been born. Even
more so honored to say that it
has been born in the motherland.
So, to rid you of your worry - no.
This is not hypothetical. Essentially
what the purity cell does when it
is formed is act as an immune cell,
a very powerful immune cell,
that attacks and destroys cancer
cells before they are given the
chance to multiply. It is a very
aggressive immune cell that
dismantles the cancer cells
within minutes. Amazing, isn't it?
Not only was she an incredibly kind and compassionate human being, but she was going to impact the world in a way that only few could.
Nathaniel
I lost my mom to breast cancer.
(long beat)
What you're doing, everything
you stand for - thank you.
She grabbed my hand and squeezed softly.
Diana
I'm sorry for your loss.
Nathaniel
I'd like to think she's in a better
place now, that she's no longer
in pain.
Diana
She is. I know it.
We stood in silence a moment.
Diana
Nathaniel.. you are in no way
obligated to assist me in -
Nathaniel
I'll do it. Whatever you need,
I'm in. But, I have to ask..
why me?
She glanced at the hillside a moment before turning back to me.
Diana
(smiling)
Why not you?
She placed her hand on my shoulder and quietly walked off.
Chapter Six
A Pig and A Plea
For three days and three nights my entire body had been submerged in the field like a seed that one plants to grow crops. My head, of course, was the only part of me that remained at the surface. I was occasionally accompanied by two engineers who monitored both the field and myself to make sure things ran smoothly. They registered a sedative to keep my body temperature low and to slow down the activity in my body - this part of the process was imperative in order for the purity cells to form. It was quite simple, really. I'd be buried in the field for three days as my body absorbed the synthetic microbes to form enough purity cells to then inject in a patient for treatment in the following days, all the while engineers observed my physiological state and the sous-chef kept me fed.
I went in and out of consciousness from time to time and lost track of where I was and what was happening for the most part. The concept of time had disintegrated and so did the memories of who I was at times. Although I'd been somewhat detached from reality and drifting into oblivion, one thing is for certain: there was one thing that was etched so deeply in my psyche that if I ever found myself eye to eye with it again, no matter the state of sedation, I wouldn't for a split second ponder on it. And as fate would have it, for three straight nights, I'd come to confront it: a pig. The same pig I'd seen while on the road with Robert on my way to the cottage.
It appeared the very first night. The moon was almost full and it was pretty fresh outside. It must've been some time past midnight, the engineers slipped away for a moment and I woke from a deep slumber. I was fighting to keep my eyes open but they were as heavy as a bag of cement. CRACK! I looked ahead in the distance and saw a figure silhouetted in the moonlight. I'd somewhat awaken now and began to blink hard trying to clear my blurry vision. The figure slowly moved closer to me and as my vision cleared, the figure became apparent. I didn't quite believe what I was seeing at first, mostly due to the sedative I was under, but after a moment of thought I quickly realized I hadn't been dreaming. The pig was about twenty feet away, standing as still as a statue and staring straight at me. Its presence was eerie and unsettling to say the least. It stared at me for what seemed to be an eternity and only glanced at the cottage whenever a noise emitted from it. The engineers were taking shifts around the clock so there was always someone on watch. I grew terrified as the time passed and, to my relief, it was only until one of the engineers went out for some air that the pig turned and disappeared into the darkness.
The second night was a carbon copy of the night before. Except only this time the pig managed to make it ten feet closer. It never made a sound, never made a move, only glared its eyes directly at me until an engineer went out for a smoke. And it was gone.
The third and final night of the procedure my perception had been chasing shadows. I was dancing with ghosts and smoking with crows as the moon grew full. I challenged Achilles of Troy to a duel and drank with Edgar Allen Poe full pints of diesel fuel. The engineers must've upped the dose of ketamine which in turn sent me spiraling into a fantasy delusion. They'd gone off on their way and I had a moment to myself as the night got colder. I howled at the moon and whispered incantations I had learned from Claire once upon a time. She really was the best thing that ever happened to me. Da Vinci had Mona Lisa and I had Claire. I began to fall in love with the memory of her as I recalled the past, something that I enjoyed doing occasionally, and found myself drifting off into a peaceful dream about her. It lasted for about a minute - a reeking odor shot up my nostrils and I pried my eyes wide to find myself three inches away from the pig. I couldn't for the life of me get a word out, but then again, what could I have possibly said to a.. pig? I thought about taunting it to try and scare it off. Thought about shouting so an engineer would interfere. But something was telling me that fate was having its due with us.
Pig
Nathaniel, isn't it?
Considering the fact that I'd been hallucinating all night it didn't come as a surprise that it began speaking to me. If anything, I was more relieved than shocked.
Nathaniel
You've been following me. Why?
The pig's voice held serious weight to it.
Pig
Suppose I had a rock and I
threw it at your head - what
do you think would be your
initial reaction?
Nathaniel
What?
Pig
Please answer the question.
The pig was steady, a calmness exuded him.
Nathaniel
You.. you wouldn't be able to.
You're a pig.
The pig brought its snout to a rock beside its foot, grabbed it between its lips and flung it at my head.
Nathaniel
What the fuck?
Pig
How do you feel?
Nathaniel
The fuck's your problem?
The pig grabbed another rock and flung it at my head even harder.
Nathaniel
You fucking pig. You're lucky
my hands aren't free or I'd
bust that big fucking snout
on your face.
Beat.
Pig
Your initial reaction is to hit
me back.
Nathaniel
Fucking-A.
I looked off, trying to shake it, but I was pissed.
Nathaniel
What are you some kind of
pig therapist? Mud wasn't
fun enough?
Pig
This isn't a therapy session.
Nathaniel
Yeah? Then what is it?
Pig
Judgement day.
The pig slightly raised its voice, enough that sent shivers down my spine. I deflated.
Nathaniel
What do you want?
Pig
I want you to pay attention,
because the next question I'm
going to ask you is crucial for
our decision.
Nathaniel
Who's "Our"? Decision for
what?
Pig
Suppose you were being chased
in the woods by a pack of wolves
to the edge of a cliff. You look
down and you see a body of
water. Do you jump or do you
fly?
Nathaniel
That makes no sense. Humans
can't fly.
Pig
Do you jump.. or do you fly?
I pondered on it. The logical answer would be to jump, I thought. But the kind of question that was posed was a double-bind paradox. On one hand - there's a high probability that I die from the fall. On the other - I'm dealing with something illogical, something completely supernatural. Not only that, but I also considered it to be a trick question. Whereas, my initial choice might be correct, which in turn could make the other choice the answer that's actually correct, but if the pig is a step ahead of me then my initial choice would've been the correct answer all along. I was in a loop of psychological warfare with myself and I just couldn't land on a choice. But ultimately I thought - if I had to choose between appearing sane or appearing insane, I would jump without a doubt.
Nathaniel
I jump.
And a long silence ensued that I didn't like.
Pig
Final question. Suppose
you -
Nathaniel
I want to change my answer.
Pig
You can't.
Nathaniel
Why not?
Pig
You just can't.
Nathaniel
Bullshit. You don't want me
to change it because I might
actually be right - and you
know it.
The pig went into thought.
Pig
Would changing your answer
make you feel better?
Nathaniel
Yeah I think it would.
Pig
Fine. Your answer's been
changed. Are you ready to
move on to the final question?
Nathaniel
You just contradicted yourself.
Pig
I made a compromise for time's
sake.
The crickets chirped as I glanced into the pig's eyes trying to get a read. He fucking with me?
Nathaniel
Who are you? What's the purpose
for these questions?
Long beat.
Pig
Suppose you knew today
would be your last day on earth.
Would you live, or would you
die?
I wasn't sure how to interpret the question if I'm being honest. I must've thought about it for hours, or at least that's what it felt like. There was a sense that my life depended on a split of either this or that, and at this point I was terrified.
Pig
Your time is running low.
It sure felt like it. I was sweating bullets, the indecisiveness killing me. And while I couldn't base my answer off logical reasoning, I leaned on my gut.
Nathaniel
die.. I would die.
The pig didn't say a word. It stood there for a moment and stared at me while my eyes were glued to the ground. It then turned and began to walk away. I lifted my eyes -
Nathaniel
Hey? Where you going?
The pig continued onward.
Nathaniel
What now!?
Without turning, the pig stopped. Beat.
Pig
I forgive you.
I was in a state of enigmatic awe as I watched the pig go off onto the hillside and disappear into the night. Before I could process what had happened I heard a voice whisper from the heavens. I glanced at the stars above and listened. It became apparent that the voice I was hearing was Claire's. It can't be. Her voice grew louder and louder and as it grew, my eyes began to close. An overwhelming amount of exhaustion flooded over me and I couldn't, for the life of me, fight to keep my eyes open. It was as if the closer her voice felt, the deeper I slipped into a slumber. It felt close, so close, that I was convinced she was right beside me. Is this another one of my hallucinations? I thought. And I continued to slip.. and slip.. and slip.
It must be.. it must be..
Writer’s Note
I personally feel that Princess Diana was one of the most remarkable human beings that has ever graced the earth. In ‘Queen of Queen’s’ chapter I imagined, had the universe conjured up a little more time in her favor, that she would’ve been the kind of person and kind of Queen, despite the fact she never wanted to be, who would’ve found a cure for cancer. Or at least she would have done something of that magnitude. Also, while figuring out how her story would unfold, I approached it as if my life depended on it because, in a way, it did. I never really felt the pressure of writing a character quite like her before because all of the other characters that I’d written were fictional. Nevertheless, with the time constraint I put upon myself to write a story in one week, and with little to no revisions, I feel as if I’ve honored Princess Diana in a most respectful way. Long live the Queen of our hearts.
unsolicited 