Abi Lofthouse
Abi Lofthouse

The wizard frothed at the mouth, spilling over with more cud, considered being chewed by bovine creatures. The saliva spilled over onto the beautiful tweed jacket which adorned his malnourished chest; heaving, up and down, in and out, within and around. His gaze unfocused as he stared in to the giant stainless steel pot and stirred. Around, around, around the shimmering mixture went. 

Within a vortex, violently ripping through any concept of time and space mortals could possess, words, which are not words as much as they are entities, swirl round. The spewing pot was slowly beginning to resemble a cauldron as the substance that spewed over hardened and replaced the innocent silver shine with lacklustre, sincere black. The flashes of light flared up from it, illuminating the man’s face and creating an image of one not there. One with a cloak, a staff, a robe; a moustache, a beard, and grey, flowing hair, all glistened in an otherworldly glow.

But it was only a brief image, a flash of another life – it escaped as quickly as it was seen. The shoddily constructed male grinned as the mixture finally calmed. He sniffed the air and nimbly rose. He lit a cigarette as he trailed the scent over to his window.

“It will come.”

Her voice echoed like a flailing church-bell inside his mind, aggressively beat against the abbey-walls of reason as they slowly crumbled and passions flared up. He quirked an eyebrow and stilled himself.

“I know,” he reasoned with her, “but will you?”

He looked out briefly and returned to the cauldron, venturing a second gander at the now serene liquid. It reverberated. He saw her words as she smiled soothingly within his mind.

“You know I can’t.”

He looked, harsh cigarette glow on the still, cold, unemotional surface and he retracted. The reality sickened him, or this one did – it was nothing like Annwn. Of course, it couldn’t be, but he sure wished it would. He sits on the couch; he really did understand them, the humans – they were just trying. 

“I know.” Reason left his voice, and was replaced with regret and spite. “…but would you?”

Silence permeated throughout the abode – a ramshackle assembly of what should resemble a human’s home, but all too eerily didn’t.

“Of course.”

There was no movement, only memories; yet these too would pass.

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