Uncertain Fortunes
Knowledge filled Ore's waking hours. He walked with ghosts, and not only in the graveyard. For the first few weeks, he still felt the abuse of the guards on his body, but soon their faces grew gaunt, and sacks hung from their eyes. His spirit friends had taken to haunting the dreams of those who chose him for an enemy. Ore didn't like to see others suffer, but he did like that his own suffering had stopped. Sometimes he even thought that they deserved their bit of pain for all the torment they had offered him.
Even though the guards had given up on dominating the wicked child, the other villagers gave him unkind looks. They made their displeasure known. They watched him, and looked carefully for his faults now that they had determined that he was well and truly different.
On the night of the first full moon, Ore crept from his house. He danced with the bones of the dead on consecrated ground. His heart healed as he accepted joy back into his life. In the morning he returned home exhausted and exhilarated. He slept the peaceful sleep of the unaware, and woke surrounded by flames.
Outside there were voices screaming. Inside there were voices screaming. Even the fire seemed to scream. Ore was not alone, the spirits never left him alone now. Some of them stood by watching him, with almost a sad wistfulness as if they wished they had the power to help. More disturbingly however, others rejoiced in his upcoming demise. Both spirits had the heart of the crowd. Ore could hear some people beckoning the flames higher, and others fighting it with all their might.
Even though the guards had given up on dominating the wicked child, the other villagers gave him unkind looks. They made their displeasure known. They watched him, and looked carefully for his faults now that they had determined that he was well and truly different.
On the night of the first full moon, Ore crept from his house. He danced with the bones of the dead on consecrated ground. His heart healed as he accepted joy back into his life. In the morning he returned home exhausted and exhilarated. He slept the peaceful sleep of the unaware, and woke surrounded by flames.
Outside there were voices screaming. Inside there were voices screaming. Even the fire seemed to scream. Ore was not alone, the spirits never left him alone now. Some of them stood by watching him, with almost a sad wistfulness as if they wished they had the power to help. More disturbingly however, others rejoiced in his upcoming demise. Both spirits had the heart of the crowd. Ore could hear some people beckoning the flames higher, and others fighting it with all their might.