#praechers

chills need to be found

              CLICK,   CLICK,   CLICK.   a familiar sound,  but ever so slightly denser than the norm.  well - paced,  with purpose.  footsteps were a fitting probability in the school’s day to day  :  but not so when they belonged to a man.   —————  trapped souls could do little but watch  …  his appearances in the school alone were minimal and faltering.   a plate knocked here   (  a bookcase shoved there  )   though there were things that drew his attention more than others.  this man,  this stranger,  was no exception.

curiosity killed the cat,  or so they said  ——————— but in this case it was well placed in his interests.  he felt drawn to the figure,  or more particularly the board sat neat upon the central glass table of the parlour.  while not a familiar thing,  it was well known enough for him to understand it’s purpose.  if this cat wanted a conversation,  who was he to deny him ?

the space across from the stranger was quickly filled.  an eagerness filling the air  :  eyes boring into each of the letters on the cheap plastic like a starved dog.   he hadn’t spoken to another soul in almost a century,  though he had tried in vain.   (  lord how he tried  ).   as the wooden plank   —  planchette ?  —   was outstretched towards him,  he placed his fingertips on the top and sides,  anticipating the inevitable question.

                                                            ❛     is there anyone there?     ❜        –  YES.

" IS th-there even a g-g-god ?" probably not the best sort of question to ask a preacher, seeing that the god department was his forte. but since that rainy day that started with a paper boat and ended with heartbreak he was not sure.  bill did not know that jesse well but seeing that tulip talked of him, perhaps he was one of the ' good guys ' & would not mind.