Liam Perrin

Day 3.

Because I cannot bear to speak these things aloud, nor record the details of my dereliction, I will write to you in allegory. My hope is that the substance of my struggle will be of some little help. The short of it is this: I set out 3 days ago for home. My hope passed this way some years ago, and it is said my trial is a mere 40 days in length. It is a barren and dangerous land in which I venture. It belongs to others. I have failed the task before, returning always to the Line. This time though, I wear my colors, and I know the hour. I will not fail. I must not. I cling to the promise, and I am not alone.

“That can’t be good,” she said.

He followed her gaze. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, dear.” He glanced at her. Her neck was stiff. Her mouth hung open. Her hand was at her throat.

“But why can’t we hear it?”

He grabbed her elbow. “Light,” he said, “travels faster than sound of course. And it’s very, very far away.”

“Oh, well that’s good,” she said, straining to watch as he pulled her along.

High above them, the yellow sun was slowly and quietly exploding.