~o0o~

 

There are some days where the memory of his past life was so vivid, he thought he could still smell that lovely tannis fragrance of crisp autumn air. Other days, like today, when his head was spinning and he felt sick to his stomach, there was nothing he could do but be haunted by ghosts of his past.

Quaraun stumbled across the apartment. His strides were swift and determined. Or as precipitous and controlled as he could compel them to act. He'd enjoyed a few bottles too much green Fairy wine to drink, and he knew it, but he couldn't oblige anybody else to notice it. No. He wasn't supposed to be out drinking this evening. Not tonight. Tomorrow is a considerably important day.

Consistent.

Stable.

Calm.

Steady. He must walk steady. And consistently natural. And calmly stable.

Balanced.

Balanced is more advisable than stable.

Yes.

Balancing was desirable.

And upright.

Upright was important. It would do no good to make attempts to walk if one was not standing upright beforehand.

Quaraun wondered if he was standing upright or not. The determination in his steps became his immediate focus. Quaraun kept an eye on his feet to make certain they were moving in the correct places. He couldn't discern if they were or not.

Must walk steady. Mustn't let anyone notice. Must. . . Must. . .

Thunder boomed outside.

Lightning flashed.

The momentary manifestation of blinding luminescence infiltrated the room with its purple haze before melting away and surrendering the chamber back into the blackness of night.

Wait. . .who is that?

The instant burst of light lasted scarcely long enough to imbue the lodging with intense light.

There was a man in the corridor. Standing just outside the door. Looking in. Staring at Quaraun. Watching. Waiting.

How'd he got there?

Wasn't the door bolted?

Quaraun walked closer to the door.

Cautiously.

Carefully.

Slowly.

Guardedly.

"Who are you?" Quaraun called out.

No answer.

Silence.

Quaraun stumbled, but hastily caught himself.

Can't collapse.

Couldn't let this fellow think he was drunk, either.

He squinted his eyes. Straining to see through the darkness.

Hoping for the lightning to flash again.

There was a man in the doorway.

A man. Where there shouldn't be one.

"Who are you?" Quaraun called out again.

Nothing.

The man stood in the doorway.

Watching.

Staring. Silent.

He didn't move.

He didn't speak.

A ghost of his past, haunting him in this unfamiliar place.

Might be one of his friends.

No.

They shouldn't be here.

They couldn't be here.

They were dead.

Dead and gone forever.

It wasn't fair.

They should have been able to live a little longer. Live until he was ready.

He'd promised.

He'd wished for it.

But too late.

Because, there is no promise, not if you die first.

His mind raced through the possibilities.

BoomFuzzy was dead.

Dead.

Gone.

It had happened before.

"Hello?" a voice called out.

He opened his eyes.

Two men were standing over him.

No.

No.

No one was there.

They were dead.

And he wasn't.

And never would be.

Couldn't be.

Immortal.

Yes.

He was immortal.

He couldn't die.

Forced to live life over and over.

To watch his loved ones die again and again.

Every life time.

Unable to save them.

Once upon a time there was light.

There were colours.

A home.

A family.

People.

Friends.

Lovers.

Happiness.

Joy. But those days were gone.

So soon.

So quickly.

Now there was only darkness and silence.

Darkness and drink.

But who knows?

Maybe. . .

No. . .

Couldn't be. . .

You didn't care. You weren't there. You abandoned me, when I needed you most. You left me behind. Quaraun opened his eyes.

A glowing purple unicorn was standing over him.

"You're mane and tail are corded. So lovely."

The unicorn answered, but Quaraun could not hear his voice or tell wat was said.

A glittering gold sheep was kneeling beside the unicorn.

"You have such beautiful golden wool."

They were both talking but he couldn't hear them.

The sound of soft footsteps against the wooden floorboards woke him. He was on his feet before he opened his eyes, ready to fight for his life as soon as a hand touched him.

It didn't come.

The silence was deafening.

The room pitch dark.

Quaraun's vision blurred and doubled, than went in and out of focus a few times. The muffled sounds of his friends' voices bounced around like a rubber ball inside his head. He tried to focus on one voice, one sound, straining to hear who was talking and what they said. Finally his vision became clearer and the sounds became less garbled.

"You okay?" the glittering gold sheep asked.

"Who was the man in the doorway?" Quaraun asked, not answering the glittering gold sheep's question.

"What man?"

"That man!" Quaraun sat up and pointed towards the door.

Wait.

He wasn't there.

The man was gone.

Quaraun looked around.

The sun was up. It was daytime.

Night was gone. It had slunk away to the shadows, to hide for another day. Fleeing from the sun's warm embrace. Waiting for sunset to come and free it back into the world again.

"There was a man there," Quaraun said to no one in particular. "Where did he go? Did you see him?"

"No," The glowing purple unicorn answered. "Only thing we seen was you passed out on the floor."

A knocking, rapped quickly.

Than silence.

Waiting.

Than the knocking came again.

Louder.

Again.

Louder still.

Quaraun opened his eyes.

He looked around the room.

"Where am I?"

He was sitting at a large wooden table.

It was a small room.

Quaint.

Old.

Old and old and old and old.

So old.

Quaraun rubbed his eyes.

They were dry.

Dry from crying too many tears.

Unable to cry any more.

His mouth dry too.

He looked around again.

The glittering gold sheep and the glowing purple unicorn were both gone. They had never been there.

Small.

Very, very small.

That was how Quaraun felt.

Small and alone.

Sad and alone.

Lost and alone.

So much alone.

Quaraun glanced up at the windows in this room.

They were small too.

And high.

So high above.

Out of reach.

Nothing felt real.

Only death.

Death was real.

His hand dangled down over the edge of the table.

Quaraun looked down.

He was wearing only the clothes he'd had on last night.

His boots were missing.

"Oh god!" Quaraun whispered to himself. Quaraun stood and stumbled and quickly sat back down. "I'm drunk. Why am I so drunk?"

He thought back to the wine he'd been drinking all night. Bottle after bottle of it. Maybe that had something to do with it.

Quaraun nervously twisted his hands around the long thin neck of the green glass wine bottle he was clutching.

"I need to either stop drinking Fairy wine, or drink so much of it I never wake up out of it's embrace. How did I get here?"

Quaraun tried to focus his eyes through the semi-drunk blur, he was still drifting in and out of.

Lots of wooden shelves lined the walls.

Some shelves were jam packed full of ancient leather bound books.

Other shelves were littered for various assorted glass jars, coloured glass bottles, clay pots, and various brick a brack.

Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters.

"Ah! The Swamp Hag's house. Forgot I was here." He paused, suddenly remembering why he was here. "Oh dear. I'm running out of leads."

Quaraun glanced down at the dishevelled lifeless body of the Swamp Hag on the floor behind him. Her blood was pooling on the wooden planks.

His attention was brought back to the sound which had awoken him. The knocking sound thudded, dully through the house again.

He turned back to he front of the building.

"Damn. Someone's at your door. I suppose we should answer it. You certainly can't."

Quaraun pushed his chair back from the table, stood up, picked up the Swamp Hag's head and stuffed it into the pink beaded heart shaped bag of holding on his hip.

"My god! I just realized. This has never happened before."

Quaraun paused, took out the Swamp Hag's head and stared at it in disbelief.

"In ten thousand life times, I've never before killed Ghirardelli. I've never before even met her. So much is changed in this lifetime. I don't even know who's at the door. This is all new. None of this has happened before. I'm doomed to live the live the same events over and over. Endless lifetimes. It's always the same. It never changes. Why is it different this time? I'm not reliving my past this time. I'm on a new path in life. One I've never been on."