A man, who also walked as though in a cloud of light, was dressed as a farmer in working clothes. He came out of the airs, and like Arthur with the sword from the stone, plucked it firmly out - freeing him at last from his centuries of aggravation. He then disappeared, as the others had done before him.
One by one the spectres were reclaimed as the party watched from the top, transfixed by the dramatic stories becoming evident – now, with much happier endings than before.
Biff, who had fallen asleep during the prayers, woke to find everyone standing by the windows - he asked Jobe what was going on.
"That Priest there is mighty. He's gobbling up the dead wrecks and moving their sorry arses on. Hey, look over there - that real ugly one just disappeared!"
Goober scowled at this disappointing lowbrow explanation, feeling pretty sure it was far from the real truth of what was going on before them. Deep magic is best not talked about whilst you are in the very middle of it happening, and so he decided to let the comment pass.
Marley stood beside Puck, looking at him wonderingly. She loved his connectedness, and how he mixed with so many people. She thought of all of the centuries he had lived - without forgetting like the mortals do – and she wondered to herself just how many he had known.
It seemed to be getting darker - or perhaps it was that the body of collective light was brightening as the numbers of illumined souls began to outrun that of the remaining ghosts.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
No comments:
Post a Comment