He fell and the pain was gone, the water thick like syrup and all-consuming, dragging him down. If anything, it was pleasant if a little too sweet for the palate, a bit like Oreos and peanut butter. It started to make him choke. He looked up and saw his broken body through the water as the red motorcycle rode off. He held his throat in an effort to purge the liquid cutting off his air. He blacked out....


…...Darren, please! the voice screamed......a female voice......his body racked with burning........his blood was on fire........his own screams outmatched her own..........


…..He was pulled from the water into a boat by a grip of ice. His saviour wore a long cloak of granite shadows, stank of death and held a long oar which he used to give motion to the small boat they both occupied. He was suddenly very dry and also not alone. Tyria accompanied him and was looking as beautiful as ever.

“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the sun.”

He just nodded and glanced at the river bank where lines of people crowded to watch them pass. Some he recognised, others were blurred. One, a slender young woman with golden hair of the sun was calling out to him. She was angelic yet pale, stunning in her deathly state. He could not hear her words.


“Friend of yours?” Tyria enquired. He looked really close, eyes squinting against the light of her hair. He shook his head. “A shame. Maybe you'll remember one day, before we both forget who we were. Come, let us go see this brave new world.” He gave the girl one brief, final look before turning back to Tyria, ready to disembark the boat and see what the next chapter in his life had in store. He spoke, glad to have his voice back.


“Why did you call me a ghoul?”


Tyria simply shook her head. “Does it really matter now?”


Ash shrugged and stepped from the boat. Guess not.