The 24 Deaths of MH – part 23

24 deaths of MHTo flesh out the scene, within the last month MH was known to have separated from — or divested himself of — a woman friend of tolerable long-standing. One of a line, deferrable, deniable, 100% professional in their function.
Although most would reply that he wasn’t the sort to pine — this, the public image confirms — he had been seen by no one during the previous week, and may well have been holed up with a whisky bottle.
His suicide, for that is what it must be, was due to him going into introspection or depression (an illness). First time for anything.

Perceive, deceit, transceiver, receipts,
I before e except after c has so many exceptions it is a rule for people who are tired of life.
—You know, their spelling is atrocious. I’ve seen his name spelled about five different ways so far on the notes, says the Pathologist.
—I saw ‘Fued’, on the news ticker last week, not the one I get, the one that goes out on the public transmission.
—Fued? What’s that?
—As in ‘Gangland Fued’,
—Might just have been a slip.
̶—Still, though, what’s the world coming to?
—The mnemonic…
—The what?
—The mnemonic, barely needed, is to remember the Hebrew God. One of His names is El.
—Who is like God?
—Easy to remember, if educated to it, the el ending of Samuel, Sammael, Daniel, Lemuel, Namuel, Himuel, all of these, any of these.

Feign, weird, heinous, efficient science,
They have had a pleasant afternoon’s adultery, at his place.
After he has taken his unavoidable telephone call, she is going round collecting up the evidence. There’s always some.
I’m going to have to keep very quiet about it, he is coaching himself.
A lie breeds a lie, as his mother would have kept on telling him, if not dead. Starts with little white lies…
No one must ever know, this possible blemish on a blemish-free record. That the now-dead MH consulted me, (in my clinic that no one knows about, for dispensing counselling and grey-area drug prescription) during the course of his lost week,
When all kinds of things must have been going round his head, feeling pushed into it, To live up to the expectations, good career move.
When MH had spoken to him, he’d been fiddling apologetically with the string of his pyjamas bottoms, tied up at the navel, as if he were some kind of patient.
He also wanted to show that this world was a hateful place,
—That isn’t really what living in the moment means, is it, though, the Pathologist had gently told him, but suspected his words were ignored, or not welcome.
This is it. I’m definitely hitting the nail on the head here. Tragically, I’m better with dead people than live people, which cuts deeply into my medical being.

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The 24 Deaths of MH by Hannah Shilling is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

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