(play the above while reading, and thanks for the idea, Daily Blink!)
To my dearest whoever is reading this,
I can only hope this letter arrives to you complete and in good time. Soon, I shall again leave to travel to a pit of misery to have a phlebotomy, where this body's tortured whimpers will plaster the walls thick with despair. I am, however, resolute in my quest. This must be done, for God1 and for Country2.
It's been nearly a month since my last journey to have my mortal form heated, prodded, and stabbed (repeatedly) for its lifeblood. I have already suffered greatly at the hands of these monsters, and God3 willing, I'll survive with only bruises and other minor injuries to make the journey again a minimum of two more times.
Indeed, it is for all the iron in my blood that it must be drawn, to thin it back to normal "human" levels. Sadly, it fights for long, drawn out sessions to remain within me: clotting immediately, shutting off in the vein, squealing and snapping as the disparate alien symbiote it was designed4 to be; fighting for self preservation against the sharp needlepoint invading its oxygen-rich pathways. The back of the hand seems where it is to be the weakest. Must remember to tell the mistress of agony to try there first. Hopefully I shall get the same one as last time, as I do not wish to go through the same dance of a someone new thinking that my veins are like everyone else's, and they are better than those that came before them. Their tears are bitter but delicious to behold, though I am still left with bruises and extra pinholes in my arms.
It was suggested I get a tap, or shunt of some sort installed. I'm quite certain it will be pushed out and rejected by the self-defense systems.
Wish me luck, and should the worst come to pass, I shall see you on the other side. God5 bless you.
1. Me.
2. Also me.
3. Me again.
4. When I originally created this form, it was a cold-weather survival system.
5. Your lord and savior, you all know and love him... nah, me yet again. Hah.
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