Gerry

He felt himself begin to slip, the icy certainty of what was happening seeping through his flesh, and as he fell away for the final time, he felt that all-consuming fear. And his only thought was to cry out for his mother. But with the last vestige of his stubborn will, he refused. She would not claim his last moment. He was silent.

And so Gerard Keay ended.

ARCHIVIST: She [Gertrude] thought she’d found a-a way to stop it. I think. If anyone knows what that was, it’s you.

GERARD: ….No.

ARCHIVIST: What? W-Why not? If, if it happens, if the Circus –

GERARD: Yeah, the world changes in horrible ways. For you. I’m a book.

ARCHIVIST: You can’t be serious.

GERARD: I’m dead serious. It hurts. Being like this. And it’s not like any pain you can feel when you’re alive. It’s… it hurts to exist. To be dead and still here. And those two want to keep me like this, so I can answer questions about their Dracula of the week. So no. Help me, or you go to your little apocalypse with nothing.

GERARD: You want answers, you tear out my page now! So I know you can’t back out.

ARCHIVIST: … [Deep sigh] Okay.

GERARD: Okay.

ARCHIVIST: Ready?

[GERARD INHALES, SUPPRESSING THE PAIN, OVER THE SOUND OF A FIBERS RIPPING]

There.

GERARD: Thank you.

ARCHIVIST: Well, you’ve probably killed me.

GERARD: Dying isn’t so bad. It’s staying dead that sucks.

[....]

ARCHIVIST: Are you alright?

GERARD: I think… I think I’m ready to go. I’m done. Hide my page, and when you’re out of here, burn it.

Please.

ARCHIVIST: I will. Thank you, Gerard.

GERARD: Gerry.

ARCHIVIST: What?

GERRY: Gerard was what my mum called me.

[Embarrassed chuckle]

I always wanted my friends to call me Gerry.

ARCHIVIST: Thank you, Gerry. Uh… I dismiss you.

MAG111 - #0173006