November 17, 1978) Introduction
Feeling an urge of affliction, as I begin jotting down this nominal anecdote. I swiftly assume why this transpired in the first place. Never would I have brooded that I, Jack F. Guthard, would be incorporated in the everlasting, presumable gloaming of this narrative. Heeding all of the fatefully indoctrinated personalities in this novel, I’ll personally recite their tales to a tee, out of the unadulterated admiration I maintain for their well-being. But for the time that I’ll be accounting for not merely just their portrayals but mine as well, I’ll be on the run. Farewell, for now.
August 13, 1977) Meanderer
Darkness imprisoned me, and it stood interminable In its recreation. Only ever outlived by the diaphanous potency of my sanity. My meandering, cognizant intellect is properly cut through and through out of this puzzle portion of the so-called, “Tournament of Life”. I’m bereft of my civility as I’m struck with the immortal anguish of the demons that recreate their luminous impressions in my senses. Only have they ever ceased for one juncture, and it stood at the deplorable expenditure of my esprit. I’ve always frequently sauntered in the candor of the topography desiring to see the destiny of the world, but seldom have I prevailed in that quest. Only recently have I seen the limitation, and it’s an insurmountable stunt of the wretched psyche, and for better or worse, it’s culminating sooner than many would’ve believed.
(August 13, 1977) New Beginnings
Back in Nashua New Hampshire, I was conceived into this world with nothing more than a passing recollection of my last vigor. Last time, I was apprehended by sovereignty after conceding to a companion about a crime I perpetrated. I wouldn’t have deemed that the man I befriended would run through my trust for his monetary growth but, he ultimately would. Without a passing flicker, he gave me a personally vilified sentence. One of the death penalty. In that life, I had only ever heard of it in news articles, only ever presuming that the nastiest of the condemned would be arranged to it. But quickly would I discover that the procedure would be ever so real when conflicted against my body. Soon, on the date of September 14, 1966, I would be put to death by the Electric Chair. It was quick and vigorously terrible. But like in the past verves, I was reborn. Now, in all my lives I’ve seen some abominable shit, but I’ve glimpsed things within these vitalities that not even our nominal masterminds could plausibly comprehend. Things that could devour the luminaries and the planet of which we stand, but I only see them, I’m the only one who apprehends the gauzy capability of the creatures that lie ever so close, yet so exceptionally far away. So here I stand, writing this novel to tell you about the hazard that lurks just beyond the anteroom of space and time itself.
This is a series and I’ll be steadfastly uploading the next couple of parts, thank you so very much for reading this exceptionally short first part. I promise I’ll get the others out quickly. Anyways thank you for reading.