He Felt these Words infill Him with Hope

Eric was not entirely a bad man, yet neither had he ever tried to be a good one- not like his Marley, he reflected, who would go all out to do the right thing every time.

As he thought of her, a vision of his funeral rushed towards his mind's eye - it was as if he were there in the party.

A moment later he found himself sitting right up on the coffin top looking at the flowers and over to the people in their seats. Someone was talking about him but he could not recognise who they were, or what they were saying exactly. The speaker told a little joke and everyone had a laugh - this felt very inappropriate.

His daughter got up to read something - she was shaking and her mascara had blackened her cheeks - he strained to hear what she was saying:

"Jesus Christ died and was buried.
He descended into Hell.
On the third day He rose again from the dead."

Strangely, he felt these words infill him with hope.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Anaphylactic Fits

Puck was boxing bulbs, when his friend and business partner Gordon walked in, having just arrived back from the World. 

Gordon's family - the Fabaceae (also known as the Leguminosae) were broadly associated with beans, but Gordon's branch were more along the peanut line, which for this Puck liked to call him Goober. (Puck had on occasion called him Monkey Nuts which also was a name for Peanuts, after which Gordon had settled for Goober.)

Puck could see that he appeared a little agitated, which was unusual for Goober who was ordinarily high-spirited at all times. He stood taller than Puck and leant over him a bit when they talked together. His appearance was that of a lanky thin man, in his twenties, dressing country casual. Today his eyes watered and he was coughing and sneezing profusely ... he looked awful.

"Passed out again yesterday - snap! just like that" he sniffed.

This was not unusual, for the elemental population were becoming symptomatic with the sicknesses associated with their family plant, as found the human world. If there were allergies in people, then they would suffer them too. Goober was continuously dropping out with anaphylactic fits that took him without warning. Fortunately it took only a splash of water to revive him.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series 

Puck was Growing a Business

In his spare time Puck was growing a business - an heirloom seed farm situated not far from his tree house.

He held an intense interest in protecting the earliest of species, flowers and vegetables, trees and herbs - that were soon to become extinct, had it not been for his seed distribution keeping many varieties burgeoning within the world that otherwise would have abandoned to history.

The Plant Kingdom has entire families of faerie beings who are akin to the greenery themselves - they dwell within their properties, and are directly connected in many ways. The Roses, for example, have beings that live within their scent, and although unseen by humans, they dwell alongside that plant for the life of it and actually help to cultivate its growth. These ethereal landscapers call the life out from the ground, they sing the blossoms into being, they are the soul of the plant itself, even though they dwell outside of it.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Heritage Plants

 

The older the plant's history, the earlier the lineage of the family is that is attached to it. From the sweated jungles to the dewdrop gardens, there are royal varieties whose lines look back hundreds of centuries. Puck personally mixed well with the representatives of these venerable families. His longstanding relationships with such royalty made him the perfect keeper of their trust and propagator of their futures.

The heritage plants that he traded were sown all over the physical world to procreate in organic farms and speciality gardens who were unaware of the invisible folk that migrated with them and took residence upon their land.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

 

The Walk was now Beginning its Climb

He watched them being whacked by invisible sticks from the ghouls of souls who had been murdered, or worse again, would turn up to now taunt their foes in retribution.

Men who were once fierce and women who were beautiful, metamorphed into animal types with beast-like features becoming humanly unrecognisable.

Did they really believe that they could escape their own action's consequences? Foolishly optimistic and selfish, this procession of offenders had no idea where they were going or why. Unseen objects pelted them from afar, needles jabbed and knives gashed into their astral skin: it was a miserable sight to see.

The walk was now beginning its climb. Puck could hear two figures at the front fighting with one another. They had come in together after a drunken car accident and parts of their body were missing. One was still acting as though they were intoxicated, whilst the other was cursing angrily.

Puck moved up through the crowd to see who they were, to find that the brain boggled character was a woman, and the one swearing obscenities was Marley's father. Puck recalled that the man had a problem with booze and a terrible temper some decades before.

The woman with him was not his wife, so Marley's mother must still be alive. Puck felt relieved at this and that he should go to Marley who must not have been given the news yet, else he would have felt her grief.
He took one more look over at her father in his wretched state - there really was nothing happy to report here. He had died exactly as he had lived and was still very much the same person as before. Puck felt the pity of it and scanned the crowd to see only futility everywhere.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

The Road to Hell

They say that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, but this is actually not true at all. Good intentions always point one to Heaven and really do count for something.

The road to Hell is paved with crumbled bones that have been softened into sand - and it is not really a road, or even a pavement, but more of a path that is very difficult to walk upon.

The distance travelled is not so long for the sorry fellows who travel its course. But it can feel tedious and frightening as there are visions along the way that are hugely terrifying, and occasions of assault where men and women are jumped upon and beaten hard - if this is what they themselves have done to others in their lifetime just passed.

It is often known as the 'walk of grief' or the path of Cinnabar.

Puck enjoyed his power walking down that path.

It wasn't so much that misery made him cheerful, it was more that this exercise renewed his enthusiasm to work hard for Humanity. He actually felt partially human himself the closer he got to their pain. He identified with their stories, he felt their disappointments, and he wanted more for the mortals enveloped in tragedy.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

The Bright Tunnel

"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