OOM: The Glacier
What happened to the dead? Where did they go? What is death, and more importantly would the afterlife be any better than the one you had to live at this moment? These were the questions that each man or woman had to answer for themselves. One of the pinnacles of conscious thought; when a soul or being began to consider the possibility that death may be upon them.
And why is it when we reach that precise moment where we have the option, the motive and the desire to take our own lives, we hesitate?
Lirael didn’t know.
No matter how hard she urged her legs forward they always veered from the edge of the glacier. She was beginning to think it was futile…that just wanting to die was not enough - perhaps she should go back, return to the warmth of the Clayr’s halls. Yet she couldn’t disturb the ceremony and the more Lirael thought about it, the more she knew there was nothing back there for her.
A life of pity, servitude to the ‘real’ Clayr, watching more and more of her peers Awaken while she waited. She didn’t want to spend her life waiting on Sight that wouldn’t come. A life like that wasn’t worth living. Better to end it now, she thought, feeling the salty tears itch underneath her outdoor clothing. One foot in front of the other, it was easy - yet she stopped before she got anywhere near the drop.
Would they find her? It was easy to imagine the funeral; herself wreathed in ice - Kirrith, weeping (why hadn’t she been kinder to her niece), and how guilty they would all feel that they had never noticed the girl with the sad smile. She felt cheated…and something else, to think of her broken body lying for weeks at the bottom of the glacier. She’d be forgotten; just like now. It was a raw thought, stung like icy truth.
There were places in the world filled with magic…they could not be forgotten. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice counseled that things may not always be this way. Lirael squinted at the sky, wrinkling her nose. There was something absurd about listening to the voices in your head, after all.
She could see a darkness in the sky, just a fleck; for a split second she wondered if maybe it was death coming for her - frustrated that she had yet to make up her mind. No, not death, or a bird; but a paperwing. One of the flying machines of the Clayr that she had passed on the way to the summit - charter-spelled birds made of paper. Something creaked. There was no time. The Starmount gate was opening. Someone was exiting the glacier and only a few options were available. She could end her life, plummet to the sharp, icy bottom as the Paperwing soared onto the terrace - Lirael supposed there was some irony to that at least. Or she could stay, watch and face the punishment that would surely be heaped on her for being in a place she was not supposed to.
All thoughts of death fled from her head like errant sparrows. She had to find somewhere to hide.
And why is it when we reach that precise moment where we have the option, the motive and the desire to take our own lives, we hesitate?
Lirael didn’t know.
No matter how hard she urged her legs forward they always veered from the edge of the glacier. She was beginning to think it was futile…that just wanting to die was not enough - perhaps she should go back, return to the warmth of the Clayr’s halls. Yet she couldn’t disturb the ceremony and the more Lirael thought about it, the more she knew there was nothing back there for her.
A life of pity, servitude to the ‘real’ Clayr, watching more and more of her peers Awaken while she waited. She didn’t want to spend her life waiting on Sight that wouldn’t come. A life like that wasn’t worth living. Better to end it now, she thought, feeling the salty tears itch underneath her outdoor clothing. One foot in front of the other, it was easy - yet she stopped before she got anywhere near the drop.
Would they find her? It was easy to imagine the funeral; herself wreathed in ice - Kirrith, weeping (why hadn’t she been kinder to her niece), and how guilty they would all feel that they had never noticed the girl with the sad smile. She felt cheated…and something else, to think of her broken body lying for weeks at the bottom of the glacier. She’d be forgotten; just like now. It was a raw thought, stung like icy truth.
There were places in the world filled with magic…they could not be forgotten. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice counseled that things may not always be this way. Lirael squinted at the sky, wrinkling her nose. There was something absurd about listening to the voices in your head, after all.
She could see a darkness in the sky, just a fleck; for a split second she wondered if maybe it was death coming for her - frustrated that she had yet to make up her mind. No, not death, or a bird; but a paperwing. One of the flying machines of the Clayr that she had passed on the way to the summit - charter-spelled birds made of paper. Something creaked. There was no time. The Starmount gate was opening. Someone was exiting the glacier and only a few options were available. She could end her life, plummet to the sharp, icy bottom as the Paperwing soared onto the terrace - Lirael supposed there was some irony to that at least. Or she could stay, watch and face the punishment that would surely be heaped on her for being in a place she was not supposed to.
All thoughts of death fled from her head like errant sparrows. She had to find somewhere to hide.