All Souls Day
Entry by: Alobear
2nd November 2015
All Souls Day
I was raised in the Catholic Church. All Souls Day is when we pray for the faithful departed. The second of November – my birthday.
Was that why it happened? Was it spending every birthday of my childhood forced to think about death that turned me into what I am?
Maybe I’ll never know. But here it is, the most important day of the year to me, rolling around again. So I have work to do.
I always start my birthday with an early morning run. It’s important to get some exercise and I find that first thing in the morning is the best time for it.
There aren’t usually many people around, which is useful. A little bit of stealth, and I can go unnoticed even amongst other early risers.
It doesn’t take me long to choose a target. Another loner, spotted on the track leading through the wooded area of the park, and I’m good to go.
I wait until we’ve nearly reached the edge of the treeline. The shorter the distance back to my car, the easier it will be to remain unseen.
A quickening of my steps, a needle jab to the neck, and it’s off to the races. The trunk of my car is large and roomy, and it’s not a long drive back to my place.
One of the reasons I chose my house is because I can park right up against the entrance to the storm cellar. Perfect for a quick drop-off, and no nosy neighbours.
Then the fun really starts. It’s always interesting to find out if they’ll scream right away, or if they’ll try to be strong; either way, they always break in the end.
I try to make it last; it is my birthday treat, after all. That’s why early morning park runners are the best; they’re hardy and tend not to give up easily.
Preparation is the key, so there’s always plenty of plastic sheeting ready, not only to prevent mess, but also to provide an easy disposal solution. Then it’s off to the dump.
It’s always over far too soon; another birthday done, and a long wait until the following year. But I keep strictly to my schedule; routine is everything.
I like to think of it as a public service. While others pray for the faithful departed, I add to them; it has a certain poetry to it, don’t you think?
I was raised in the Catholic Church. All Souls Day is when we pray for the faithful departed. The second of November – my birthday.
Was that why it happened? Was it spending every birthday of my childhood forced to think about death that turned me into what I am?
Maybe I’ll never know. But here it is, the most important day of the year to me, rolling around again. So I have work to do.
I always start my birthday with an early morning run. It’s important to get some exercise and I find that first thing in the morning is the best time for it.
There aren’t usually many people around, which is useful. A little bit of stealth, and I can go unnoticed even amongst other early risers.
It doesn’t take me long to choose a target. Another loner, spotted on the track leading through the wooded area of the park, and I’m good to go.
I wait until we’ve nearly reached the edge of the treeline. The shorter the distance back to my car, the easier it will be to remain unseen.
A quickening of my steps, a needle jab to the neck, and it’s off to the races. The trunk of my car is large and roomy, and it’s not a long drive back to my place.
One of the reasons I chose my house is because I can park right up against the entrance to the storm cellar. Perfect for a quick drop-off, and no nosy neighbours.
Then the fun really starts. It’s always interesting to find out if they’ll scream right away, or if they’ll try to be strong; either way, they always break in the end.
I try to make it last; it is my birthday treat, after all. That’s why early morning park runners are the best; they’re hardy and tend not to give up easily.
Preparation is the key, so there’s always plenty of plastic sheeting ready, not only to prevent mess, but also to provide an easy disposal solution. Then it’s off to the dump.
It’s always over far too soon; another birthday done, and a long wait until the following year. But I keep strictly to my schedule; routine is everything.
I like to think of it as a public service. While others pray for the faithful departed, I add to them; it has a certain poetry to it, don’t you think?
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