The strange echoing footfalls sounded hollow. The walls were white without gleam. The hall stretched on forever. Pools of light at regular intervals. Islands of light in an endless river of darkness
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A sound as of a rushing wind, rising water. The blackness parted for a gondola poled by a strange figure. A mousy, balding man with limp greasy hair combed over.
(How his hair is growing thin!)
A wiry man with a plaid shirt and tweed trouser hiked too high. His carbuncular face was adorned with an arrogant smirk as he looked at Faith.
(But how his arms and legs are thin!)
Wheezing out words in his breath which smelled of sardines, he spoke in a nasal voice to her.
A disgruntled sigh from Phlegyas, the ferryman as motioned to the boat. Rubbing his bulbous nose violently with a thin hand, Phlegyas spoke impudently in his nasal voice.
Comments 27
Or perhaps not so oddly - she isn't real here, after all.
She's wearing a livery she's never seen before, but the colors - red and black - suit her, and she doesn't mind.
She feels comfortable here, in the domain of the wrathful.
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(How his hair is growing thin!)
A wiry man with a plaid shirt and tweed trouser hiked too high. His carbuncular face was adorned with an arrogant smirk as he looked at Faith.
(But how his arms and legs are thin!)
Wheezing out words in his breath which smelled of sardines, he spoke in a nasal voice to her.
"So do I have you at last, you whelp of Hell?"
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"I'm not dead, if that's what you mean. Nor am I gonna be yours when I am."
She has an angel's word on that.
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"Who are you that comes here before you time?"
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