Dear Reader
Dear Reader,
I feel compelled to tell you this. Darkness works in different ways, and its paths twist and turn as it seeks release. And do not believe for a moment that I speak of the soft darkness, the darkness of night – for its tumescence can be predicted by charts and numbers. No, dear reader, I speak of the darkness of the soul, that which was once called evil before the word lost its meaning. I speak of that darkness which is far more particular, which is far more perverse, which is far more real.
And I tell you again, dear reader, I tell you again because I am compelled in ways you cannot know. Darkness works in different ways. In some it gnaws like a tumour, a florid silhouette of growth. Perhaps that is how it will work you. Or perhaps its manifestation will be a lack, a loss that knows nothing of itself except an aching absence. Is that how it will be for you? Or perhaps the darkness works in you as it does in me: in a compulsion to infect others, over and over and over again.
So, dear reader, that is what I am about to do. You could stop reading now, but I am afraid the infection has already occurred. I have already planted the dark seed inside you, and it will grow whether you leave me before I finish my tale or not... but you won’t leave me, dear reader, will you? You may try. You may put the book down as you read these very words. But you will return to me for my tale. Of that I have no doubt. You will not leave me now for the same reason that I write this tale. The compulsion is with you. You must discover what manner of dark seed is now burgeoning in your soul...
I feel compelled to tell you this. Darkness works in different ways, and its paths twist and turn as it seeks release. And do not believe for a moment that I speak of the soft darkness, the darkness of night – for its tumescence can be predicted by charts and numbers. No, dear reader, I speak of the darkness of the soul, that which was once called evil before the word lost its meaning. I speak of that darkness which is far more particular, which is far more perverse, which is far more real.
And I tell you again, dear reader, I tell you again because I am compelled in ways you cannot know. Darkness works in different ways. In some it gnaws like a tumour, a florid silhouette of growth. Perhaps that is how it will work you. Or perhaps its manifestation will be a lack, a loss that knows nothing of itself except an aching absence. Is that how it will be for you? Or perhaps the darkness works in you as it does in me: in a compulsion to infect others, over and over and over again.
So, dear reader, that is what I am about to do. You could stop reading now, but I am afraid the infection has already occurred. I have already planted the dark seed inside you, and it will grow whether you leave me before I finish my tale or not... but you won’t leave me, dear reader, will you? You may try. You may put the book down as you read these very words. But you will return to me for my tale. Of that I have no doubt. You will not leave me now for the same reason that I write this tale. The compulsion is with you. You must discover what manner of dark seed is now burgeoning in your soul...
Publication History
"Dear Reader" was first published in the ground-breaking anthology, Terror Australis, Australia's first original mass-market horror anthology for adults.