They called it music but it was like no music he’d ever heard before. The elders did not tell him what it would be like, did not tell him there would be music when he became one of the living. He moved away from the hall in which he had stood for years, glad to not be gawked at any longer. “Wait,” called a voice that sounded like autumn leaves; he knew who it was and although every fiber of him wanted to turn, to go back to her, the one who had kept him sane in the late nights, he could not. He moved toward his future as the Archer readied her bow. “Don’t make me take that which is most precious to you,” she said, her voice rustling against the nape of his neck.
“I told you to come with me, but now it’s too late,” he said.
I saw this picture and almost immediately thought “Roger Zelazny!” Call these 150 words my ode to that story.
And then the prompt from Today’s Author showed up and I just had to marry them. Hopefully it worked. Click each below to visit and add yours (thanks also to Angela for reviving the VisDare badge!!!! Yay!).