Psychopomp

A cold wind roars through the rafters. Inside the house, there is the sparkle of glitter and the sound of your grandchildren. Your bones ache with the cold and you’re feeling your age today. The food has lost its flavor and you barely ate, but you feel no sting of hunger.

You feel just a little off today. Old resentments and memories are digging at the edges of your mind–they’ve been doing that lately. You feel sad and depressed, and you can’t really pin down why.

Then, you hear it. Beyond the sound of the holiday show on the television, beyond the moaning wail of the wind, you hear it.

From the forest, so far from your home, you hear the triumphant sound of The Hunt. You sit up and your head swivels towards the sound. One of your grandchildren heard it, too, you notice; but she goes back to watching her show.

Slowly, stiffly, you rise to your feet. To each of your children, you gently speak, all resentments forgotten… You’ve heard the horn. You know what it means, even if they don’t.

You pick up the phone and call that one person you could never forgive. No one picks up, so you leave a message that grants forgiveness… and asks for it.

Then you lie down, looking around you. Peace comes over you. It will happen tonight. You won’t rise in the morning. You look around your room, and you smile… and cry. There are so many memories in this house. So many stories hidden within its walls–if only they could speak.

The thunder of your own heart roars in your ears… blending with the thunder of hooves. The horn sounds again, and you slip from your body. Looking back at it, you feel gentleness and joy overcome you. Walking through the walls of your home, incorporeal and insubstantial now, you find yourself standing before a God.

His visage is the Universe itself, encapsulated in Death.

You can feel his welcome and his smile. To your great surprise, he bows formally to you. Returning the gesture, you join others, and find that you can keep up easily on this Hunt. You run, free and filled with joy. At the end of this run shall be Paradise. You know it now, as you never did while you yet lived.

For you, there will be a time of rest. A time of immense peace and joy while you watch those you love live out their lives.

In the wake of the Psychopomp and his Hounds, you run and laugh with the others until you arrive at the gates of Annwyn. There, for a moment, you hesitate. You turn to look back at Gwynn.

“I heard the horn. I told them I loved them.”

You feel his smile, his pleasure, and his pride. “It is a good death,” is his response.

You smile back. “Yes,” you agree. “I wouldn’t have known, without it. I might not have gotten to say the only thing that really matters.”

He turns to go, but you have one thing left to say…

“Thank you.”

He pauses for a moment, and then leaps away to search out the rest of the souls that await the gates of Annwyn. No more needs be said, for you understand his urgency. And… his purpose.

 

——————-

 

The Risen God (Currently Under Construction 😀 )

Gwynn ap Nudd is the Master of the Hunt. A mighty God, his job is like that of any psychopomp… lead souls to the Afterlife for a time of rest and restoration.

But dark forces have trapped him beneath the ground. For centuries, he has lain, neither dead nor alive… unable to free himself.

When at last he is dug up, he must retrieve all that makes his work possible in the world. In the meantime, he must work to protect the woman who resurrected him, bringing him back from his living death.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Christina
    Jan 02, 2015 @ 17:24:24

    I really appeacirte free, succinct, reliable data like this.

    Reply

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