My cousin writes me from Africa. He tells me the apes are ruthless. Thank God I live in relative solitude, hanging here in a middle-class home. It's likely they won't even eat me. I might just be able to grow old here, withering to a brown elderly man. It's quite peaceful once you think about it.
Most days are dreadfully dull though. My brothers hang along with me, though they rarely talk. Each day their numbers dwindle, the herd slowly thins. I do not know what happens to them when they are taken; I just know that I’d never like to find out. I pray for them, as I try to maintain my composure. I’ve heard the horror stories- I try my best not to think of them. Horrible images of friends’ heads being… peeled apart at the crown, bending downward towards their torso. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard, and I can only hope that the stories are nothing more than superstition.
Hang on, feels like something’s pulling me away from my brethren…
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