(I fixed some grammatical issues only in the edit, but the post remains the same.)
Emil Günther
Physical state: Sleepy
Mental state: Sane
***
That is to say, not for all. Not for the man standing on top of Miskatonic University's highest tower, screaming an indecipherable prophecy of the end of the world and the damnation for everyone around him. Clad in only a coat, he finally leaps from the roof down to his death, surrounded by people on all sides. Times seems to slow down, and one can see his lips forming a smile, just before a loud thud breaks the silence. But this man was no lunatic, no madman or crazed fool.
Dr. Howard Atkins knew the truth.
”Mein lieber Sohn,
Wir vermissen dich. Gestern hatten wir ein Mittagessen mit deinen Großeltern. Deine Tante Mia hat ein schönes Mädel zur Welt gebracht, und wir mussten das feiern! Wir wünschten, dass du mit uns da warst... Erika kann es kaum erwarten, ihren Bruder wiederzusehen.
Ich habe mit deinem Lehrer, Herr Göring, gesprochen. Er sagt, dass er an dich glaubt, und dass deine Mitschüler wünschen dich alles Gute in Amerika.
Entschuldigung, Mäuschen, ich kann nicht mehr schreiben, weil ich jetzt zu Arbeit gehen muss.
Viel Liebe von deiner Familie.
Mach uns stolz!
P.S. Der Großvater sendet dich etwas Geld. Du kannst es im Briefumschlag finden.
Deine Mutter''
With a pillow wrapped around his ears, Emil finished rereading the note that had just arrived in the mail. Well, someone had pushed the envelope under the heavy door of his new dorm room, Spartan in size yet well equipment with everything a student might need: a wardrobe, a desk, a lamp, a bookshelf, and even a decent typewriter... He woke up earlier, for he was waiting for his roommate to arrive, a boy he'd only known by name -- Sean O'Reilly. He liked the Irish, so he was looking forward to a possible friendship and a way to improve his English in a more intimate way, without embarrassing himself more than was needed.
He had wasted the entire day prior to the arrival of the note, trying to make sense of the new environment. The American mornings and the American food and the American snows -- which were in no way different than the German snows -- and a
Bund of other small things all worked together to hinder him. He felt guilty already -- even more so because he was holding those Mark bills his grandfather had sent him -- but hoped his 'foreigner card' would save him if used politely with the professors.
Having pushed the note back into the envelope and briefly examining the postmark, he placed the money in his wallet and got off the bed, tossing the pillow onto it, thinking he'd have to deal with the noise coming from the outside.
Huh... He realized that the ceilings were not as tall as he had thought, because he managed to touch them with the tips of his fingers as he stretched. The alarm clock on the nightstand sounded, interrupting his morning routine, which annoyed his sensitive, sleepy ears. He slammed it shut, yawning, processing the fact that breakfast was nearing. He immediately drew a map of the campus in his head, prefiguring the path to the eating quarters.
''Frühstück-Zeit!'' he says, as if to assure his whining stomach that food time really is near. He then goes towards the window to finally see what the ruckus was all about. Click, screech of the window frame, and suddenly the cold white air penetrates his pajamas and chills him.
''Scheiße...'' he whispers, and discovers that it was not the cold that chilled him, but death rising from the misshapen remains of a man splattered on the pavement in the yard below.
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