“My name is Logan Astra Forsaith. I’m 22. And I have stage 4 pancreatic cancer. This means that my liver, lungs, and other parts of my body are filled with cancer cells that will more or less kill me sooner or later…” I said. “At least, that’s what my doctor says my future will be.”
I look into the camera. An ensemble of four stands behind them, not even showing any ounce of care but to the documentary they are making. Blinding flashes of light capture my face, forcing me to look away.
Since long ago, I accepted my fate as an object of curiosity for the people around me. Although, I cannot lie. I really wish my family hadn’t begged me to appear in this documentary. I’m not some freak object for study or sympathy. I am literally dying, forced to lie down on this hospital bed, tucked in layers of blanket while hurting - crying - every time I burp or move my torso.
Maybe some peace of mind would’ve been better.
“As a dying man, do you have any last wish, Logan?” the interviewer said. “Maybe look into the camera, Logan, it’s a bit hard to get your face in the video.”
I force a smile to their camera. Every fiber of my being, if willing, would be shouting at them. Kicking them, punching them, and getting rid of them from my presence. These people are the worst.
“I don’t have a last wish, but if I did…” I said. “It would be to get rid of you all from this Earth… haha… that’s it.”
The documentary crew widens their eyes. They appear shocked at my words. Heck, I’m even shocked I had the gall to say that in front of them. What would my parents think of me?
The interviewer chuckles, obviously nervous at what I just said whilst smiling.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
“Haha, I didn’t know you were into dark humor, Logan!”
The rest of the crew chuckles. I chuckle as well.
“But, no, seriously, what would be your last wish?”
“Let me think about that, actually.” I said.
I sigh. What else, really, is there for me?
I wish I was more brave in my life. I know that when I was still in high school, I had a lot of potential. I was good at sports, I was good at my academics, and I was close with all my friends. I feel like I had everything, but I let my sickness - which at the time wasn’t that big of a deal yet - get the better of me and my parents. I freaked out over being diagnosed with cancer, but I should’ve done more. Instead, I just listened to my parents and went along with whatever the doctor said. Just like now.
To an extent, that is also why I wish I didn’t work as hard. I wish that I expressed myself more through art and through my relationships with people. I wish I stayed in touch with my friends instead of being ashamed. I wish I experienced more.
Fundamentally, what are those wishes? Can I even summarize them? I don’t think so. It’s just the fact that I was dying that made me scared. It was also the fact that I let myself succumb to my own safety net. My parents. I never thought that pushing for an unattainable cure would take away so much from my time and energy to the point where I would be unable to think of anything else. To conceive of any life, any future, of me doing or being something else. I sort of just internalized my sickness as part of my self-identity.
That’s the key, isn’t it?
I opened my eyes, tears ready to flow down.
“Yeah, I guess my wish is to…”
A giant roach-like monster replaced the documentary crew. In fact, I think the monster is currently chewing them down.
“What the-”
The monster noticed my presence and jumped at me. Its nasty hairy mandibles gnaw at me. The entirety of my body is crushed with its endoskeleton, specifically what I feel is its mouth. In less than a second, I don’t feel anything anymore with my vision being clouded totally with the insides of the roach-like monster.
I guess I didn’t finish my wish.
It was to live.
And to know the future I had lost.