In times past, lepers had to peel a bell, and cry "unclean, unclean" as they moved among the unsuspecting throngs, of medieval citadels. They were tainted, beyond saving, they were cursed. I wonder what terrible things they did to draw such horrendous retribution upon themselves.
It's was a sickness, you say, nothing more than a sickness. Those people were not cursed, just infected.
Well, cursed or infected, it matters little, because that is what I am.
I walk the same streets as those miserable souls, except I wear a Savil Row suit, where they wore filth encrusted rags. They jingled their tiny bells, all that jingles when I walk, is the coin in my pocket. They were horribly disfigured, but those who gaze upon my face feel nothing but envy.
All around me, city workers strut their stuff, feeling invincible, that nothing can touch them. The arrogance of them all. They crush people’s dreams, make money from disaster, rise ever higher on an ocean of shit, the human race is making for themselves. They are all cursed, infected, even if they don't believe it yet.
Yes, I am just like them in every way, I won't even try and deny it. In every way but one, I know I'm doomed.
I walk these streets knowing it’s only a matter of time before the first lesions appear on my perfect skin, before I lose the feeling in my hands, before my nose drops from my face, because like the lepers of old, I am unclean. My soul is stained by the blood of brotherhood. I got behind the wheel of a car with my two best friends at my side, only I made it out alive. I had been drinking that night, not much, but enough to rip my world apart.
Suspended sentence, said the judge, but that didn't matter. My sentence wasn't suspended, nor commuted, but forever dangling over me, and I deserved every second of it. I glance sideways and see three shadows, cast on a building wall. That's the one good thing about all this, I'm never alone.
Soon guys, soon, I will be joining you soon.