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// 2/18/2013 
// Story: The Last Days of Parrsboro 
// by Eakin 
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2/18/2013

It’s becoming clearer with each night. I think I finally understand.

She came to me, as she does almost every night now. She spoke, educating me as if I were but a child. I suppose I am, by comparison, but She is a wonderful teacher. Chalk danced across a blackboard as I listened, struggling to force the knowledge into my mind. It resists what She is teaching me, to my eternal frustration. I want to throw myself down before Her and beg Her to fix me, to shape me into the vessel that can hold and comprehend the knowledge that will make the whole world right again, as it’s supposed to be, as it was all those eons ago before those idiots wrecked everything. But the seal will be undone soon, so soon, just a little longer. The Heart is the key, the center. It sits at the, well, the heart of all the diagrams, six vectors branching away from it. Each one a perfect right angle with all five of the others, geometrically ideal. We just have to make it, to prepare it for her. She will show us how.

She is pleased with me after tonight, and she smiled upon me as I recited back to her what I needed to do. She rewards me for my diligence, and allowed me the favor of laying a hand upon Her, right on the blessed sun at Her hip.

I don’t know how long I sat there basking in Her light, but eventually I awoke. The tingling in my fingers has been growing ever since.