The Low Goal Of Professor Hagon

I read aloud the passage as my staggering nephew sat in front of me, grasping the arms of his study’s desk-chair and sweating with agony. Though the rhyme had no relevance, it seemed poetic at the time to read to him a short collaboration of nonsensical, yet darkly themed, thoughts from a reasonable enough passage. Highlighting the philosophical nature of this occasion, I made my way over to the seat where he lied dying, and looked upon him as a poor animal being put down.

I told him of the circumstances that lead to his imminent demise, as he glared up at me with eyes crafted from all the dying fury he could muster. I could feel the hate emanating in heat and unable to escape through any simple action. For him to even stand now would be a miracle. The seconds would pass away as his heart faded with unending moments, that was, until finally his heart would stop. A drop of custom-poison in his tea would halt any further attempts to secure my estate. 

Being a man of much valor, my reputation as a feared professor and positions of power would all be removed from beneath me, had this fool opened his mouth to the authorities. Too many bodies have been buried under me to jeopardize the construction of my empire and any future plans. If I were to die, then it must be known full and well that I accomplished this one task. That task being the completion of my home and complete control over this land and the family fortune. This temple, for which my already damned soul would be free, to roam with ease for an eternity.

I would be free from the shackles of Hell, unending, and unbound to the kingdom of Heaven, existing in a domain of my own. Limbo, where I could rest in anxiety, but none of this would be possible without the death of a family member. Just one. To think, he’d almost foiled me. True it was he that sent the invitation, beaconing me to his mansion in hopes of a talk, working out deals and coming to agreements. My endeavor called for no such civility. 

Any and all threats would have to be dealt with swiftly, and with as much force as the consequences would entitle. And so, into his tea, drops of rat poison and toxic chemicals spilt, securing my dream and cutting down every last one of his attempts to best me. This was his punishment for ever believing he could swindle, frame and double-cross me.

Staring at him as he passes away brings a warm comfort to my heart. This warmth spreads to my throat and suddenly I’m choking for air. Poisoned, good lord! I’ve been poisoned! That snake nephew of mine, running the same rigged game! I never though he would stoop to my level, always parading as the innocent figure, kind to all and scot-free. The b*****d!

As I fall to my knees I cannot help but look up and stay fixed on such a scene of irony. I lay at his feet, drooling and gagged, staring at a lifeless youth beside me. He sits like a king, unafraid of his demise, and I lay like a jester at his feet. I fear the end, and it would appear all my preparations have gone to waste.

Turning over, I can see the ceiling closed and dark, my eyes blackening as the poison works deeper and deeper into my soul. The people I’ve buried surround my grounded-deathbed and look down at me with disgust and anguish. It is this house that I’m to die in, and remain trapped with the ghosts of those I’ve taken the lives of. Limbo is a dream now, and purgatory is my fate, and that low goal of mine remains unreached, even in death.