Silver Envelopes. The mail came in shiny, smooth textured envelopes like pieces of gray tarp that had been drudged up from the bottom of the ocean. Water proof, opaque envelopes with bits of shadowed golden letters scrawled across their surfaces.
They had an electric eel touch. His fingers skimmed over his name, and he imagined it being washed away like a sand castle slipping back into the sea. The reality was being to get to him. He was drowning here amongst these strange people with their determined clinging.
He sliced the envelope open with his pocket knife and stared at the words unseeingly. He did not want to read this letter. He was sure it was filled with more demands that could not be met, more challenges to his conscience, more words requesting more evils to be done, more blood to be spilled, more money to be had.
Yesterday, he had ordered the capture and killing of a mother, a daughter, a teacher, a lover, a life giver. Because the people here had a way of giving things life, of making them more brilliant than they were. He was sure that all the goods they sent back home where damaged in transit because of the loss of these life giving people.
It had always just been a job for Fredrick, but it was beginning to get to him. The responsibility of his actions weighed heavy in boots. It was getting harder for him to raise his legs and take another step. He did not want to take another step.
No more, Fredrick thought, no more.
And that was the day that he jumped into the lake and waded underneath the waves. The world behind him was spurred into more chaos.
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