Tired doesn’t begin to describe
how I feel. Dead tired would be more
descriptive, if death were possible.
That’s right. That’s what I
said. I can’t die. But, what does it matter; you don’t believe
me, do you? No one ever does, until they
see it with their own eyes. By then,
it’s usually too late and they are the ones about to die.
I’ve been called a wanderer, and even an Angel of Death, though I’m no
angel. I’ve had many names since that
cursed day. You can call me what you like,
just don’t call me Hatcher; the demons think it’s funny, but I’m not a chicken. I don’t know why I’m their channel into this
realm – that was God’s deal. I’m just His
humble servant.
For now, I’m Brother Shamus Felix, the Keeper, and I just want you to
know…
Death is coming, but not for me. Are you ready?
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