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Messages - Ashella Wick

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[Aug 2013] - Elements / Re: [Aug 2013] Elements - Voting
« on: September 11, 2013, 10:54:08 PM »
Ooh, good entries this month! So hard to choose...

Oh! I'm sorry. The title for mine is "Ten Kings in Iron"

I always appreciate a good title, and I love this one!

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[July 2013] - The Deep / Re: [Jul 2013] The Deep - Discussion Thread
« on: September 09, 2013, 10:37:54 PM »
Congratulations, 137minutes! Your piece was fantastic.

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Beyond the Veil
(754 words)

   The ghost of Charlotte Jane Harper was not happy. The Other Side, after all, was no picnic. For the earthbound spirit of the deceased, she found herself stuck in a whirling vortex of pressure and endless darkness, the nothingness of Purgatory that even ghosts in their limited awareness thought of as a deep abyss.

   Why Purgatory?

   For Charlotte, the path of her afterlife was not a clear one. She didn't do enough good to go straight to Heaven; she didn't do enough evil to be sent to Hell. In fact, she didn't do anything at all, simply because she never had the chance to live. Of course, none of this was Charlotte's fault. She died in her mother's womb before she could see the world, let alone experience it. Christian doctrine would state that as a powerless babe, she was an innocent. But then, Christianity was not the only faith that existed in the history of the human world.

   It's difficult for a spirit such as Charlotte to keep track of the human world. It continues on outside of herself, and for her the passage of time is confusing. She sees the results of human innovation, the shifting advances in science and technology, but she's not part of it. In a way, she grows, too. She grows alongside her twin, outside and yet parallel to her existence. Within that swirling vortex, there is a sense of what her life might have been. However, at her core, she is childishly immature. She is pure instinct and basic urges. Some intangible connection to her sister drives her to watch over her well-being as best she can, but she doesn't understand it. If given the option of choice, she's not certain what she would do.

   She can't remember when she started drifting through the circle. Her strong connection to her twin must have pulled her to this place, this portal back to the world of the living, through the rift. If she had more skill for conscious self-reflection, she might have wondered why she was able to accomplish this when it was so against the forces of nature. Humans live and they die; they don't usually get a chance to come back.

   At first, she was only dimly aware of floating out of the vortex of souls and reentering the living world. Soon, she began being inescapably drawn into the slumbering form of a living person. It was strange that it was the same person every time. She wasn't sure how she could tell this was true, but it was. She began to recognize the familiarity of the boy's mind, his dreamscape. No matter what he dreamed about, there was a signature to his thoughts -- perhaps it was his unique brain waves -- that allowed Charlotte to recognize it was him. He rarely dreamed regular dreams anymore. His dreams were a battleground of vague imagery. Part of the boy's uniqueness was in the way other beings like Charlotte could slip into his unconscious and take root, at least for a night. It was easier to try settling here than anywhere else she tried. There was a communicativeness, and Charlotte quickly became hooked on the possibilities. Finally, here was her chance to affect, to convey content. Eventually, whether it took months or years in living time, she became the only ghostly voice to invade the boy's dreams. She pushed away her competitors more and more. The more she did it, the easier it became.

   It took a while to figure out how to shape the images. At first, the boy resisted. Even asleep, the boy's mind seemed to sense the foreignness of the messages being relayed. His mind knew they were not organic to his own thoughts. Even with practice, the images Charlotte managed to conjure up were not clear-cut, not linear, but it was the best she could do. Ghosts didn't know much, but what they did know, they want to share with those connected to them who are still living. The unfinished business the living believed the dead had in order to linger... Charlotte couldn't finish what she never got to begin. The thing is, she and the other meager spirits of the formerly living weren't the only things that could travel through the rift. Any time a slice in the mortal veil occurred, the risk was the same. What followed her and those like her out of that deep, dark abyss was no human shade. Only the dead know of the horrors to come.

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