The gift came unwanted to the unworthy. I am a non
believer who heals by touch, an ability beyond my understanding but not
my contempt. My life's filled with the anguish of others, from this
there is no solace. As I said I am unworthy, and had once sought to
profit from the suffering of others. To this end I sought out
evangelists who were dancing in the flames. These were vile, and
corrupt people. These were people I understand. Pulpits were pounded,
and people came. It was then I discovered to my horror, my gift went
beyond simple healing. Contact with me instilled an overwhelming sense
of virtue, and the desire to bring others. I ran away and hid in the
most depraved, and morbid of places. Places the virtuous would not
walk, but the converted followed in my wake and grew into mobs of
desperate longing.
I was not hard to find, and they brought me to my guilded prison where
my days and nights are filled with endless processions of the sick and
infirmed. I have lost track of time, days into weeks, and weeks into
years, and still they come. The wretched masses filling me with rage, I
am bound by that which I am. I once attacked one of my attendants, and
although I was trying to choke the life from him I only succeeded in
curing his diabetes. I wept for days, though not out of shame, but
frustration. My true nature is an embarrassment to those who hold me in
their service. My public persona has grown to that of a saint while I
suffer their condemnation of the sinner I am. A new world order is
rising, spreading like a plague, and I was its unwilling carrier. I do
so miss the decadence dance and all that I've laid to waste.
William VanDorin � 2001
