Monday 24 December 2012

T is for Triptych

‘Sleep-fire? What is it?’
‘Well, according to Fanny Gibson, she’s a dear you know, passed away in 1895 and loves a chat about textiles—‘
‘Jonathan,’ Wisp interrupted, ‘Sleep-fire.’
‘Oh, yes. Well, Fanny told me that sleep-fire is passed between us when we communicate. I suspect a good way to think about it would be like a flu for spirits. Because all of the never-roam are linked we now all have it. I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you for much longer.’
‘Why? It’s not like you can die?’ Wisp asked. I didn’t want to speak as I had a dreadful feeling what was coming.
‘Yes, we can die. That is, we can be lost to the void. It’s a kind of death and, in a way, it’s much worse than a mortal death. You see, we’re here on a stopover. No one’s really sure why we’ve been stuck here while others get through but we are here. The point is that after a while we should be heralded off to the real afterlife.’
‘Is there a time limit on being sent to the next afterlife?’ I asked.
‘Not that I am aware of. One of the never-roam was here for more than five hundred years before heading off to the next afterlife. He used his last thought on this realm to tell all of us that he was moving on. He was lucky. Now that we have sleep-fire we won’t be around for long. None of us.’
‘And because you’ve spoken to us … ‘ I added with dawning realisation.
‘I’m afraid so. You and Wisp are both infected. I couldn’t have prevented it as I didn’t know I had it until now. As one of our number has gone it means that we were first subjected to the virus as long as a month ago. You never had a chance. As a result, here we are; a triptych of death.’

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