Hi, all!
Annabelle Hawthorne here, and I've returned with my next installment of "It was either monster girl stories or therapy". (One of these things was cheaper than the other)
I'm still on my busy summer schedule of family trips, house repairs, and all the crap that comes with nice weather. There are few things more satisfying then finally planting that garden in the yard only to see it razed by hail a week later. (Why, yes, that WAS sarcasm!) Do you know what hail and rain also do? They allow you to find tiny holes in your roof!
Anyway, I'm trying to maintain a solid schedule so that I actually have content spread out rather than dropping into the void for so long that conspiracy theorists start posting Youtube videos about me. Don't forget to check my bio, I always put my posting schedule or any big life updates there in case it will keep me from giving you new chapters.
New reader? Congratulations, you've made it through my rambling which will be the only thing you understand! There's no real way to sum up this story. It's had its highs, its lows, and I even made a character's butthole a valid plot point (take that, James Cameron). So if you like being confused and want to roll the dice on whether this chapter even has a sex scene, by all means, plow ahead. If not, go back to chapter 001 and start with a blowjob from a nymph in a bathtub.
Returning reader, welcome back! I hope these stretches between chapters haven't been too long, I'm doing the best I can with what I've got. I got some super nice emails from you all over the last month (and a couple of weird ones) and just want to say thanks once more for people who take the time to write. I get several a week and don't always have time to respond (or they get tagged as spam/social) but do want to give thanks where it's due. Also, thanks once more to those of you who remember to leave me some stars before you go. It's usually around 10-15% of people who read each chapter, so make sure you're paying that love forward to any authors you find on this site!
Alright, I'm starting to ramble. You can blame that on the heat. I'm actually talking to myself so much today that all I hear is
Echoes
The swing on the front porch creaked softly beneath Cecilia's weight as she swung her legs to move it. Out in the yard, she could see the souls of the fae as they woke to greet the sun that rose over the top of the house. In the middle of the hedgemaze, a particularly grumpy gnome grumbled as he collected dew from a cluster of flowers to make his morning tea.
Cecilia didn't see all these things in the visible spectrum. For the most part, she only saw the souls of the living in a void of white light. However, she did see the vague outlines of objects as if they had been drawn on a blank canvas in faint pencil lines. She often wondered about the little details she couldn't see, like the veins on a leaf or the color red. Her brother had explained that red was similar to the color a soul possessed while angry, but these were things she wanted to see for herself.
She twirled her hair around one finger. It was a nervous habit she had picked up in the last year, courtesy of the tiny piece of Mike's soul that had blossomed deep inside her being. The banshee was changing, albeit at a slow rate. She had dreams now, filled with bright colors she imagined filled the mortal realm. The banshee also got bored on occasion, which was such a novel experience that it chased itself away.
If she was lucky, maybe she could see the world as Mike did. He had gained the ability to see the things she could see, so her fingers were crossed that something similar would happen to her.
The door of the home clicked open and Death walked outside. She saw him exactly as the mortals did, a hooded figure with a skeletal frame. He waved an unknown item in her direction and moved to sit by her on the swing.
"I have brought you today's Wordle," he said, holding the unseen object between his fingers. "And we have run afoul of a word that does not contain any of the letters in my name."
Cecilia smiled at Death, then tilted her head toward his hands. "You should try the other vowels, then," she said. "We can figure it out if we put our heads together."
"Hmm." Death stared at his cellphone, the flames in his eyes burning bright enough that Cecilia could see them through his skull. "Do you know a word with IOU in it?"
Cecilia gazed across the yard, letting her mind drift. Some time ago, Death had discovered that Cecilia was experiencing bouts of boredom and had made it his mission to check in with her once a day while he was home. It was always some type of word game they could do together. They had tried crossword puzzles, but their knowledge of trivia had been abysmal.
"Pious," she whispered. That was a word she was intimately familiar with.
"Um..." Death tapped at his screen. "Oh! The O is where it needs to be, but the other letters are bad." The Grim Reaper tapped at his screen some more.
"You're not cheating are you?"
"I prefer to think of it as educating myself," muttered Death. "But indeed, you have caught me."
"Are you in a hurry?" she asked.
"Not really. I'm...distracted." Death looked back at the house. "It is in regards to Mike Radley. He had a rather troublesome meeting with Santa. I can tell something is bothering him."
Cecilia nodded, her hair floating around her as if she was underwater. She had seen the turmoil in Mike's soul; Sofia's as well. However, she got the feeling that the issues were separate and hadn't had a good opportunity to ask what was going on.
"Have you tried asking if he wants to talk about it?" she said.
"Not really. I guess it's better to say that I know what's bothering him, but don't know how I can help." Death stared out across the garden. "Starting a conversation about it feels meaningless. I guess you could say I have the same problem he does. I feel helpless. It is hard to inspire hope when you have none to give."
"It's about Tink." Cecilia smiled sadly. The goblin's soul sparkled brightly, but the banshee could tell that it had become loose in her body. People often thought of dying as a process for just the body, but that wasn't entirely true. The souls of the elderly longed to fly free and reunite with those they loved. It was the primary reason that mean, nasty people tended to outlive their contemporaries. Their souls had nothing to look forward to and clung to their angry, bitter shells as long as possible.
"Tinker Radley may pass upon giving birth. Her existence had brought me great joy, and I cannot ponder days without her." Death set his phone down and pulled a tea cup from an inner pocket. The moment he opened his robe, Cecilia got a peek of the eternal void that existed within. It was a sight not meant for mortal eyes, and recently, it had become slightly painful for her to look at. "And if I struggle with the idea of her demise, I can only imagine the difficulties Mike Radley faces."
