It was seventeen years ago on Christmas day, that Caroline had first entered this world into her new life - of what turned out to be that of a very sickly child. From birth she had been given the spirit of a poet and the body of a spirit.
Puck had been making his yuletide trip to the hospital, bringing gifts of enchanted dreams to the sufferers who were bedded down indefinitely in white sheets, and in grave need of the release that a good dream can bring.
When he first saw her, he thought her to be the most beautiful mortal he had found this century. Seventeen was a most perfect age for the physical form. He was drawn to her grace, her expression, and countenance of kindness. She seemed good for the world and far too young to be dying.
With half opened eyes she could watch the light shimmering through the tree branches outside of her window, as the curtains inhaled backwards and forwards with the breeze. She could not see him watching her.
"What day is it?" she asked her nurse softly - who had cuffed her arm and pumped the pressure with an awkwardness that showed her nervousness with death. She was uncomfortable, and fumbled with the pen upon the chart, whilst replying that it was Christmas, not even bothering to look up.
Caroline herself said nothing more - her soul had other plans now and was preparing to move on. Puck remembered that day and how she fled from the world without complaint or expectation.
After her passing she was immediately occupied with a crowd of relatives and friends who came to greet and chat in spirit speak, and embrace her with spirit arms.
He held back from introducing himself - she was so busy, and now happy - there really was no need.
From time to time he would go and find her, to see how she was faring. He never showed himself - she would not have known him - but nonetheless this pure soul was now on his list for people to care for.
Just three decades later Caroline returned to be born again - this time to a frosty family who did not treat her well at all.
As an infant she would be left crying on her own for long periods of time - cold, hungry, saturate and red faced. Puck would go to cheer up the child as best he might - presenting himself to the baby Marley (which was her name now) as being only eight inches high. Usually in the material world he would appear as tall, or taller than any normal man - but to the infant he looked like a doll and could do vanishing tricks to amuse her and pass the time.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
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