Preservation of the Soul

The process takes years. I felt sin leaching out, drawn by the purity of the salt around me. I am bleached, the blemishes of soul and body pulled out and trapped, replaced with clarity and cubic perfection.

It was my thirteenth year in the barrels when I understood. It began at the fingers and toes. Dryness, cracking, splintering. Jagged crystalline pain. The salt reached further, through skin and muscle to bone, and beyond. Agony, white and pure. I have nothing more to give it, but still it thirsts.

Will I die when it reaches my heart?

What if I don’t?

All the Time in the World

It's that time of year again! And by "that time," I mean time for the Advent Ghosts Storytelling Event, hosted by the indomitable Loren Eaton of I Saw Lightning Fall. Last year saw a pretty hefty roundup. I'll update this with a link to this year's page as soon as it goes live. In the meantime, here is my scary-winter-Christmas story, in honor of my wife, Angela, who wanted to put up a Krampus decoration at our office when they asked for suggestions on the holiday decorating contest.

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Oh, child, the news is bad. My brother, he brings you no gifts. He leaves you to Krampus.

Come, away, into my bag. Down into darkness with the other ones. Feel them pinch. Feel them kick. Yes.

See! My brother Niklaus, he brings a gift for your family. It is you, child! You as you will be, after your timeless time with me. See your pale face! See your frightened eyes! You will be a good child for your mother, oh yes, oh yes.

Come. This night ends soon. Then, to work! And the work never ends, child, no, never.