I met with a cancer patient who told me how, as a boy, he was immortal. He enthusiastically told of times like how he got hit by a truck and survived. Or the time he accidentally drank bleach by grabbing the wrong bottle. These I've heard before, nothing super spectacular. After many tales, his demeanor changed. He wasn't so enthusiastic to talk. It's like the essence of depression crept into the room and was swallowing him whole. He looked me dead in the eyes and said "you're not here for those stories, are you doc?". I said no. He lowered his head, coughed a bit, and sighed. When he next spoke, he seemed like a completely different person altogether. "I couldn't leave my house. No actual barriers, just… something told me I needed to stay. And so I did. Called in sick for work and spent a few days to myself. I planned to relax the first few days and then do some work around the house, maybe finish the porch. I never finished that porch. I still didnt know why I felt the need to take off, I thought originally my mind was telling me I needed a mental health break, especially after losing my girlfriend to a car crash a few months prior. The first few weeks were great. No issues at all and I was thriving. I even felt more energized. I had completely forgotten about work until the 3rd week when they told me I was fired. I honestly didn't care, I felt the best I had ever felt. I thought I could take on the world. Though still, I never left my house. Not once. I had the windows open to get the fresh air. I started writing stories, writing happy little short stories about family members or small things I remember. Soon enough, it turned into simply writing about my life and my experiences. Within a month and a half, I had essentially written every detail of my life. All of my existence was in that book. Soon after, I got a knock on my door. I wish I had never answered. Something made me do it. They must have made me. They tricked me." I tried to calm the patient and he continued. "I handed him the book, completely oblivious to any reason. Something told me to give it to the cloaked dude. He put it in his suitcase and left. I closed the door smiling. I was so full of energy that I felt like I could write it all again and again and maybe rebuild my house entirely. I felt so alive." He had a coughing fit and some blood dripped from his nose which I swiftly wiped away for him.
"It was a little bit after then that I noticed. I saw how much my potted plants had died and how decayed the wood paneling looked. I turned on the tv that day and realized I was never watching any shows at all, it was just flashing cards that told me what to do. To write the books, to stay home, to never leave the house, to steal quintessence. At first I didn't understand the last bit. But that was the turning point. I had lost track of time between the first few weeks and writing the book that I had apparently stayed at home for 8 years. My phone lines were cut and I never got any mail through the door. I started freaking out and was about to step outside when the cloaked guy was back. He pushed me back inside and blocked the door. I tried the backdoor, the windows, and the chimney. All of them boarded up. Even with my energy I couldn't make them budge. Now I was REALLY stuck at home. I hunkered down and tried to think of a way out but this weird buzzing hum sound kept distracting me. It kept me doing anything for probably weeks. I just remember waking up scared, trying to think of a way out, everything going numb from the sound, going to bed. Idk how many times that happened either. My energy depleted quickly and I tried so hard to keep myself together. I never ate food since the event started and I never felt hungry. Well, I did, but not for food. For energy again."
More blood dripped from his nose and he didn't even acknowledge it this time. He just kept talking while looking off to the side with that distant gaze "I didn't really have much of a will to live after that, just sorta existed within my house. No motives, no ideas, everything was a blur. At some point the electricity cut out but I just didn't care. It was already cold anyways and I figured I didn't need to see anymore. I basically set up a chair in a spot where I could see the faintest bit of sunlight and sat there. Day after day after day after day. My eyes only focused on that little bit of light… I hadn't even noticed other cracks until probably.. 130 days later? Even then, it took me at least 20 more to notice it was because the boards that guy used were falling apart. In fact, everything was. I finally looked around the room to see the walls falling apart and often turning to powder. I couldn't even stand anymore. I sat there until the door fell off and someone walking on the sidewalk came in to see what's going on. I wish he didn't. The moment he stepped inside, he collapsed onto the floor. He tried to climb up but couldn't. Man, I felt great in that moment. Now I feel awful but back then I felt more like myself again, at least somewhat. I stood up as the dude took his last breathe. I just looked at the sunshine and the bright sky and stepped forward to the door. It was then that I noticed a MASSIVE circle surrounding my house and the neighboring houses. The ones directly next to mine looked just as decrepit. I stole the life from everything around me in all that time. The moment I stepped outside, everything my feet touched turned into a sand-like powder for miles. I don't know where I was going but the buzzing got louder. I eventually snapped out of it and went the opposite direction until my feet stopped killing the land beneath me. Which trust me, was a few states away. I stopped and cried. Someone saw me and called for help. Some people came and took me to the hospital. Next thing I knew… I was in bed for weeks. Months even. And now I apparently have cancer. Bet this is my punishment huh? I somehow eat away the life around me, my cells start to eat away at me. Man, I can't wait to die."
I consoled him and told him his condition can improve. He didn't care. He just stared out the window at the sunset. I said thank you for the visit and the stories while checking his papers. He simply replied with "I'm sure you don't believe me either.". If only he knew. I was tempted to tell him as well about his cancer actually being a mutated parasite from the ravens but this is probably better for him. Becoming healthy again wont save his mind the trauma. I just hope he dies quickly.