A Fictional Monologue of Janet Humphrey From ‘The Woman in Black’

Vile. Filthy, disrespectful, cynical old hag. You’re my own sister, my own flesh and blood, and you steal from within me what is rightfully mine. May god spite you for your betrayal.

My dearest Nathaniel. What a joyous gift, a glimmer of harrowing gold through this thorn-ridden, greyscale land. A young man to grow strong and tall, the future of our family…of my family. From the day God graced him upon my loving abode, you pitied yourself. You became jealous of my joy, of my happiness. Your pathetic, feeble world came crashing down and you needed a crutch to prevent it from burrowing into your soul. He is my crutch. I need him more. Since the day I departed from father and yourself, I knew you’d do everything in your rapidly-narrowing conscious to deter me of my life. I knew you would steal every shimmer of life I had, yet I never anticipated this.

Let me fill you in, my dearest sister. I left that house to feel safe; to have a life; to be worth something. I made a mistake; I fornicated and I should regret it. But I do not. That hideous man gave me a treasure; he left a legacy of the highest value. He gave me Nathaniel. We built our own world, developed our own bond, and thrived despite the pressure of societal evolution. My little solider, my guardian of our life, shone brighter than the brightest sunrays. He made the birds chirp from the soul and the clouds disperse indefinitely. He was the muscles behind my smile, and the glimmer in my eye. Nathaniel will never be that to you. I but only hope that your comeuppance smashes through your moral walls, tearing your life apart and bringing my dearest back safely. He will never love you like he did with me. He will hate you, as I do, and you will be helpless.

Justice will be served; God’s iced pick shall plunge into your equally cold heart, dragging it from your chest. This is what it feels like, what you’ve done to me. I only hope that Nathaniel will soon grow to your humiliating ways, and when he is of age, shall leave you to rot in your own fermenting puddle of a soul, which had gruesomely drooled from every orifice in your being the moment you set your cupiditas eyes upon him.

You simply cannot fathom the reciprocated disgust I felt towards you. You are a mere nuisance in the world; the buzz of an eternally flying insect or the constant itch of wired wool. You are the crack in the glass, I can cover you up but you still remain. To rid you, I have to shatter the remaining. You shall become an insignificant shard amongst many. The only harm you can burden me with is a mere scratch, but the drop of my blood shall symbolise my strength. You may draw my red, flowing life from within me, but my soul shall live on. I remain in the air you breathe, poisoning your very lungs with the cancer you deserve. I shall be your ultimate demise, the Trojan horse within you, burrowing out from within. You cannot stop me; my burning vengeance drives me on with much more power than any train, any car, and any horse.

A man much more admirable than yourself once quoted, “if you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge”. Does not Shakespeare speak the most golden truths?  I seek my revenge. Perhaps I shall allow God to make his move upon you, smiting you like the very waste you are. Perhaps I shall allow

him to plague you with eternal illness, grinding and eating away at your lungs, leaving you dead and alone. Perhaps I will complete gods will for him, removing your being from this beautiful planet. What you have committed is nothing more than a sin, you have betrayed your own bloodline and committed Ira, wrath…You took from me what was not yours, just for the cold feel of power. You cannot be as powerful as me. As long as you live, I only grow. My determination drives me up this pathetic hill you have built, my anger pushes me over your walls you erect, and my own wrath shall rid the cancer before me.

Give me Nathaniel, or be warned, your demise shall come before you. Your very life will be drawn from within your heart, and your soul shall forever be damned in the burning pits of hell. You will be but another harrowing voice in the pool of the lost, fermenting and wasting away with no-one but Lucifer to laugh upon your fate. Heed my warning, comeuppance is upon thee.

-Benjamin John Wareing

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2 thoughts on “A Fictional Monologue of Janet Humphrey From ‘The Woman in Black’

  1. Pingback: Fictional Literature | Next Generation Blogs

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