This is the tenth day I’ve gone down to the cemetery to kneel at my father’s grave, and also the last. After this, I stop. I tell myself that there’s no point in coming back anymore, because he’s gone, and he isn’t hearing anything I say. 

I dunno. Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped. Ten days isn’t enough to mourn someone, especially considering what’s going to happen. I’m too pragmatic about these things, too logical to provide myself with any sort of comfort in times like these. 

At least I can take comfort knowing that nobody thinks my father was an evil man anymore, since ten more people died after him. When the first ten died, they all said it was because they had incurred God’s wrath. Which God, I couldn’t tell you. 

When the next ten died, most kept their belief that those people were evildoers, wolves hiding amongst us, even though we couldn’t find any evidence of that. 

Then the next ten died, and I don’t think anyone in this now-seventy-person-strong town wasn’t impacted. Everybody knew someone who died by now, and that person was never evil, hadn’t done anything wrong in their life. 

You’ve been with me for more than two months now. Seventy days, you’ve been a distant companion, watching. Observing. Never intervening. It’s comforting, in a way; but at the same time, unnerving. 

You’ve seen everything that’s happened. Everything that will happen, for the next seventy days. 

You know, I’m starting to wonder why you’re here. Clearly, it isn’t to help me, or us. 

Maybe you’re like me. You want to know why this curse befell my town, and what it is. 

It’s not like I can just talk to you and find out, though. 

I suppose we’ll just both have to wait and see. 

Only thirty more days to go.