Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Mary-anne, whom I met at Otakon and was the catalyst to one really awesome weekend. Thanks for making it so memorable.
On the first day, the rain whips out over the fields, bringing the tide of that great whispering green ocean almost to the front steps. He teases it by standing just close enough to edge to feel the faux sea-spray on his face and arms, enjoying the goosebumps as they rise all over his exposed flesh. Thunder takes its time to roll across the rim of the sky, resonating through him—and beyond it, there are only the bells.
On the last day, the green is grey and warped, far from the chipping brick and creaking wood of the first day. The storm had finally made it around the world, after twenty years returning to him there, on the edge of another precipice. He's not alone this time and on the first day he thought that would make him happier, if he ever heard the bells again—but it didn't because he was the only one that heard them. And somehow, he knew it would be that way.