When Night Comes Too Early and Leaves Too Soon

“You can stop now.”
“But he’s not come yet.”

“You’ve been at it for forty-five minutes.  He’s not coming.”
“And you know?”

“Did you see him at the party?  He’s been waiting for this moment for all his life…much longer than Phil Collins.”
“But he’s leaving everything behind…even his goat.”

“Well, he was never one to get too attached to anything, except for maybe his goat; he’ll probably want photo updates every couple of weeks.”
“So, this is it?  You can’t even convince him to stay at least until the harvest?”

Oh my Ishtar, have you forgotten everything in those five months you spent on the mainland?”
“Maybe…a little.”

“Put your arms down, girl. He’s been alive for 335 years already and is about to reach the point where he’s going to age twenty-five years for every revolution the the earth makes around the sun.  You live to be even half his age and things start to lose meaning and value beyond a week — a month tops.”
“So, what now?  What do I do with all of his clothes, plates, rapiers, and this goat?”

“I will take the rapiers, you can do what you want with the clothes and plates, and the goat can eat the weeds on the old abbey’s grounds.”
“What’s going to happen to him?”

“Nobody knows.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe he’ll be turned into a planet or a spectre.  Or, he could possess the body of a horse.  He’s always liked horses.  Remember Raleighnea?  She always loved horses and after she left, there were reports of horses that wandered up and down the coast just like she used to do.”
“Why does nobody know for sure?”

“Oh, some people know, they have to, they just keep silent.”
“How do you know?”

“Because I’m one of them.”


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