To all ordinary eyes, the city was abandoned. To those like Harrison, however, it was as busy as a capital at noon. Where he’d started in Harper Rock he’d slowly moved his way outward, down the roads and paths that led to other places. Eventually he’d found himself in a city whose name he did not know, but the buildings were all empty, the streets discarded, the brick and mortar colourful with the art of the miscreants who came and went, but never stayed. This place was home to no one anymore. No one but the dead.
The howling was what brought him there, tugged him from the road and into the skeleton of the city. As soon as he stepped within its limits they knew that he was there. They flocked like lost children looking for their parents – and he was the one with all the answers. It was too much to begin with, and he had to leave and come back again; had to try to convince the restless dead that he could only help them one at a time.
It was easier, here. In this place where there was no one else around – he could talk to his imaginary friends without being seen, or overheard. Thought to be insane. It was a job he had taken upon himself knowing the consequences if anyone were to find out. The last place he ever wanted to go was to an asylum. It would be as bar, or worse, than the prison he’d spent six years cooped up within. At least in prison they treated him like a man. In an asylum they’d treat him like a child. And he was not insane.
Soon enough, knowing that he had his work cut out for him, Harrison purchased a swag and some camping gear from Harper Rock. The commute every day was tedious, and it would be easier just to stay. He told no one it was his intention; there were rumours that the city was haunted, and Harrison knew those rumours to be true. It was his job, however, to make those rumours untrue – to banish those restless spirits to a place where they would be better rested. Or so, that is what Harrison chose to believe. They were going on to heaven, to be received by the angels and reunited with their loved ones.
So even after the sun went down, Harrison continued with his work. The weather was clear and he set up his gear, a fire burning a small distance from his tent. He sat on an old milk crate, revelling in the touch of the breeze in his hair. Once a man has had his freedom stolen from him, the small things would never again lose their lustre.
Around him, a circle of spirits. In the distance, a ghost-like song. The creature from the water, calling for him – a creature he’d glimpsed earlier in the day but had steered clear of. Curiosity got the better of him. He stood, and the spirits swarmed with him, their eyes wide, their heads shaking. The water played such a strong theme in this place of the dead; the water was the reason there were so many dead to begin with. Perhaps, he told himself, this creature will have the answers.
The howling was what brought him there, tugged him from the road and into the skeleton of the city. As soon as he stepped within its limits they knew that he was there. They flocked like lost children looking for their parents – and he was the one with all the answers. It was too much to begin with, and he had to leave and come back again; had to try to convince the restless dead that he could only help them one at a time.
It was easier, here. In this place where there was no one else around – he could talk to his imaginary friends without being seen, or overheard. Thought to be insane. It was a job he had taken upon himself knowing the consequences if anyone were to find out. The last place he ever wanted to go was to an asylum. It would be as bar, or worse, than the prison he’d spent six years cooped up within. At least in prison they treated him like a man. In an asylum they’d treat him like a child. And he was not insane.
Soon enough, knowing that he had his work cut out for him, Harrison purchased a swag and some camping gear from Harper Rock. The commute every day was tedious, and it would be easier just to stay. He told no one it was his intention; there were rumours that the city was haunted, and Harrison knew those rumours to be true. It was his job, however, to make those rumours untrue – to banish those restless spirits to a place where they would be better rested. Or so, that is what Harrison chose to believe. They were going on to heaven, to be received by the angels and reunited with their loved ones.
So even after the sun went down, Harrison continued with his work. The weather was clear and he set up his gear, a fire burning a small distance from his tent. He sat on an old milk crate, revelling in the touch of the breeze in his hair. Once a man has had his freedom stolen from him, the small things would never again lose their lustre.
Around him, a circle of spirits. In the distance, a ghost-like song. The creature from the water, calling for him – a creature he’d glimpsed earlier in the day but had steered clear of. Curiosity got the better of him. He stood, and the spirits swarmed with him, their eyes wide, their heads shaking. The water played such a strong theme in this place of the dead; the water was the reason there were so many dead to begin with. Perhaps, he told himself, this creature will have the answers.
