He peered into the night-dark windows of the afflicted girls, whispering names and stirring fits into their dreams until their own screams awakened them. The girls concocted fantastic stories of witches and curses and torture at the hands of specters...
Merry’s mind devolved into chaos. Ideas evaded her. Words chased one another into meaningless jumbles. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the ghastly image of William’s lifeless body twisting in the wind, solidified and held.
The world he thought he knew had become an odd thing, twisting time and purpose. But it had remained an unfair universe in the end.
The kiss grew into so much more than anything that had come before, unfettered by a time that strived to contain passion, born from perceived loss and glorious gain.
