Today I met a man whose skin was covered in blisters and warts. His eyes were crusted over and useless. His entire body shook. His clothes were stained with his own blood and pus.
My footsteps brought me to him of their own volition. He was sitting in an alley, resting against the wall, his life nearly gone. I saw my hand reach out and clasp his, and then the man died.
I felt someone else then. Somebody aside from myself and Judas, laying within my body. I felt chaotic and sick, and I realized that Judas was struggling with this new being. And then the chaos subsided, and the third was gone. Judas and I were all that were left, and Judas had grown stronger.
Long ago, the Dying Man was one.
Soon, I think, Judas wishes to be one again.
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