The Gallivespians
The suburbs of the dead were just as Salmakia remembered them: the same never-ending, miserable sprawl of lean-tos and dilapidated shacks, deaths wandering through the mud. And all covered in a heavy, lingering fog so thick, had she been alive she could have cut it.
The Gallivespian glanced at her companion. The ever opinionated Chevalier was uncharacteristically silent, his fierce eyes sad. But he walked with pride, his chin high and his shoulders set, though the both of them together were barely more then ten centimeters tall. Like her, he knew exactly what was coming. She nudged him with her elbow. Immediately she had his full attention.
"Yes?"
"Come, run with me to the dock." She tugged his hand.
"Run?"
"Yes. Run. One last time." She pulled harder.
Feeling no resistance, Salmakia ran. Ran and ran, through the mud, through air so thick it would have swallowed her, had she not been flying like this.
People often run for joy, like wild spirits they fly over green meadows or through ancient leafy halls. Salmakia ran like this, her fierce, proud little body flinging itself through the misery and despair, refusing to end like all the other sorry souls. She would be free. She would return to the world of the living, her atoms mingling with a million others in a million different worlds, giving her life.
Behind her, the Chevalier flew as well. Salmakia's love of life was intoxicating, even in the suburbs of the Dead. Her hair whistled beside his ear, pale and shining like the sun that would never shine here. His doubts melted away behind him in all the little eddies of air, and his feet barely touched the slimy earth beneath them. Rebirth was coming and it would be wonderful. Together they would make it beautiful.
They arrived at the dock breathless, their ghost bodies glowing, so close to being alive again. The boatmen nodded to them. He remembered them, them and the ragged boy and girl who had been their companions. The ones who had found a way out of the land of the dead.
"You've come back. Not so willingly this time though." The boatman reached out a hand to help them on. "But at least you have a way out now."
Salmakia just smiled. They all knew there was nothing to say.
The boat pushed away from the dock silently. The two Gallivespians and their guide crossed the river in amiable silence, Salmakia and Chevalier leaning against each other, patiently waiting. Rebirth was coming and it would be wonderful. Together they would make it beautiful.
The suburbs of the dead were just as Salmakia remembered them: the same never-ending, miserable sprawl of lean-tos and dilapidated shacks, deaths wandering through the mud. And all covered in a heavy, lingering fog so thick, had she been alive she could have cut it.
The Gallivespian glanced at her companion. The ever opinionated Chevalier was uncharacteristically silent, his fierce eyes sad. But he walked with pride, his chin high and his shoulders set, though the both of them together were barely more then ten centimeters tall. Like her, he knew exactly what was coming. She nudged him with her elbow. Immediately she had his full attention.
"Yes?"
"Come, run with me to the dock." She tugged his hand.
"Run?"
"Yes. Run. One last time." She pulled harder.
Feeling no resistance, Salmakia ran. Ran and ran, through the mud, through air so thick it would have swallowed her, had she not been flying like this.
People often run for joy, like wild spirits they fly over green meadows or through ancient leafy halls. Salmakia ran like this, her fierce, proud little body flinging itself through the misery and despair, refusing to end like all the other sorry souls. She would be free. She would return to the world of the living, her atoms mingling with a million others in a million different worlds, giving her life.
Behind her, the Chevalier flew as well. Salmakia's love of life was intoxicating, even in the suburbs of the Dead. Her hair whistled beside his ear, pale and shining like the sun that would never shine here. His doubts melted away behind him in all the little eddies of air, and his feet barely touched the slimy earth beneath them. Rebirth was coming and it would be wonderful. Together they would make it beautiful.
They arrived at the dock breathless, their ghost bodies glowing, so close to being alive again. The boatmen nodded to them. He remembered them, them and the ragged boy and girl who had been their companions. The ones who had found a way out of the land of the dead.
"You've come back. Not so willingly this time though." The boatman reached out a hand to help them on. "But at least you have a way out now."
Salmakia just smiled. They all knew there was nothing to say.
The boat pushed away from the dock silently. The two Gallivespians and their guide crossed the river in amiable silence, Salmakia and Chevalier leaning against each other, patiently waiting. Rebirth was coming and it would be wonderful. Together they would make it beautiful.