We all have problems we would rather bury than deal with them. We put them in a hole, cover them in dirt, and think we can forget them.
But it’s like the Tell-Tale Heart, we fixate on that hole, we hear that problem beckoning us a heart beating beneath the floorboards. It’s a ghost that actively haunts us. We think we’ve gotten rid of the issue but then it’s a thought that appears in the back of our minds like a monster rising from the depths.
And it forces you to confront it, unyielding, undying, and relentless. It consumes your very being.
A spirit that returns from the grave repeatedly to haunt your eternal existence.
Tombstone, this is what I see you doing every day.
You bury your responsibilities and duties to Arcadia and your mentor. Because the secret is all Igor needs you to do is ferry him. He needs you to offer him the release which you deny, while praying for his survival in vain.
All the while you forsake your duty to every other soul in the whole of our realm. You believe there will be no consequence, that a King can shirk his duties.
You’re a King who entombs his problems rather than push yourself to confront and overcome them.
You’d rather ferry Nobody than bring your entrenched problems to the surface. Well, ferrying Nobody will only make your suffering worse, my dear Ex-Ferryman.
I’m here to remind you, that it was you who attempted to bury my memory, you thought you’d left me behind, forgotten, abandoned, a memory you smothered on Thunder Three Twenty-Two.
Even before you were King, you thought of me as a nobody, a peasant who wasn’t worth a Ferryman’s time.
You thought that I was a memory that would fade away, that you would just send me on my way, and I would stay gone.
I am the Arcadian Ghost, a spirit even a King couldn’t ferry. Seriously, one King has already sentenced me to death, and I arose from that grave.
The Ghost who returned to plague the land of the living, and trouble men like you.
Because no matter what you do, I will not run from you, Ferryman. Because it’ll never be enough to put me away, I will just keep rising from that grave. Coming back from the dead when you least expect it, undying, unyielding, and relentless as ever, a spirit in possession of a perpetual rewind button.
So, this week I will hit the rewind button once more but this time, I get to bury the King, and Ferry the Ferryman.
And before I send you on your way, I will whisper in your ear, “Nobody will remember the day he crowned you King Nothing”, right before I take your Rewind Championship.
And hear that whisper echo into eternity haunting your very existence as that rewind button gets pressed in perpetuity. Torturing as you hear the moment you live and die by and just like Drewitt, you will never get to… rest in peace.