Shrieks into the Void

“Yes mother.” Milo’s second reprimanding that day, the first came from a mistaken Latin conjugation, was due to Milo spilling his bowl of the cook’s stew. Because of the latter mistake Milo was now required to buy the cook a new basket of ingredients from the market. Despite the shops being only a mile away, his mother found this to be a suitable punishment. The family was well known in the area and the Arlington’s eldest son carrying a woven basket spilling over with vegetables would cause many sideways glances and just-loud-enough conversations of “Well, it looks like he upset his mother today”, “what a shame that Marla’s handsome boy has to buy his own vegetables”, and Milo’s favorite “at this rate he’ll never carry on the family name” Marla was known for her punishments but was well respected throughout the city and Milo running household errands had never brought shame on her, only lowered his chances of finding a wife.  Despite their stares and tales of his falling statu...

“I’ve come to speak do you.” “Really? I thought you’d never show up.” “No, I always arrive. I was biding my time. You weren’t ready before.” “I asked you to meet with me and you didn’t respond.” “Like I said, you weren’t ready before.” “I told you I was.” “You were not.” “I told you. I was.” “Do you not think that after 10,000 years I might know how these things work?” “I guess you’re right, but I wanted to come with you before now.” “I know you did.” “I’m sorry.”  “That’s alright, it’s time to come with me.” Michael hadn’t expected to cry when it happened. He expected to feel—he wasn’t sure exactly. Relief? Closure? Some sense of safety? Instead he just wondered how many things he might have done. Much to his surprise, this was not Michael’s fault. Drunk driving. That’s how he would go. Of all the times in his life he could have been finished, of course it would be like this.  A dark hood on a cloaked figure. That’s what Michael saw. Nothin...