"Father!" the elder cried out. Bartholomew (who had only just passed over) became overwhelmed to have someone actually waiting for him at the other side. After passing through the bright tunnel he had just kept running and this had led him right up to Jobe.
Jobe stared hard and then the recollection dawned. Visions of lives before ran past his inner eye and sadness swept over him with the realization that this wizened being was his first-born Ozmund of now five centuries ago - who he had lost at the age of eight to the fevers.
Jobe had wailed and protested that day when his little boy had gone cold and breathless - for this child had been the love of his life. Nothing had been the same after that: that was the moment he had lost faith in life completely.
Jobe took the big urn carefully from his grip and put it down, wrapped his arms around the small bony frame and hugged him intensely. "My boy" he wept softly, "you are safe now".
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
No comments:
Post a Comment