chikenmcnuggets (chikenmcnuggets) wrote in johnnyfanfic,

Long time member, but I've never really posted...

And since no one's updated, I'll introduce myself with a short perspectives ficlet...

Title: -
Author: Me!
Characters: John Wilmot; hints of Elizabeth and Lizzie
Rating: PG-13?
Warning: Not much to warn about...language?
Disclaimer: I do not own John Wilmot or any of the characters in this story.  I do not profit from this.
Summary: "There is nothing left of the John Wilmot they have seen and not seen..."

I am thirty three years old...and I am dying...

So here I am, lying on my death bed, this thought burying itself in my mind.  Oh, how I dread the thought, yet I have long awaited my inevitable end.  Elizabeth lies next to me.  Naive she was; to marry me.  But as I think back, I wasn't always the man I am today.  I've gone from a proud intellect to a man who can't even take a shit without having to be picked up like a child and carried away.  I've become a man who can't even clean himself up after pissing his pants.

Countless days of drinking and adultery satisfied my hunger.  The rational part of my mind scoffed at me till the day it died while his gluttonous brother praised me.  He praised me so, feeding the fire of my greed as the wine was poured down my throat.  Never did I think I would end up like this.  The smell of puss and rotting flesh filling the spot where my nose should have been.  I can barely see; one of my brown eyes turning pale and foggy.

Yet as I lie here waiting for death, I feel the urge to call out her name.  It was as if she would come to me like she once did.  I treated her as my student and soon, she became my lover.  I was wed to Elizabeth, yet my heart belonged to Lizzie.  And even when she grew tired of me, I still felt her wanting and love in me.  She broke my heart.  But she was the only real person to ever see inside it.  The only thing I have left of her is our child of passion.  The only child that has ever given me such meaning.  The one I will never meet.

Not even God made his way into my heart.  Mother wonders why I don't serve him, why I refuse to die a Christian.  God has done nothing for me.  I never believed in him before, and he has done nothing to change my mind.  She attempts to revive a Christian faith that was never there and I laugh in her face.  By dying an Atheist, I can also laugh in the putrid face of God.

Those who knew me, know me no longer.  There is nothing left of the John Wilmot they have seen and not seen.  The men who listened in awe to every word that has left my mouth will never know the real words behind it.  The only woman I ever loved will never know why I loved her.  The only woman who ever loved me will never love again after my death.  And to those people who liked me, I curse them.  I curse them and spit in their faces.  I damn them to hell for liking a man who will never like himself.

I am thirty three years old...and I am dying...

The feeling of lightness comes upon me as I speak the words a loud.  Those words pound in my head at an unbearable speed, but something stops it as I shuffle from this world.  One thought; a story.

Speak to me of abduction...

She speaks, but I hear nothing.

Feedback is appreciated...
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