FINAL WEEK

[strangerpeople]

FINAL WEEK

[Well. What else can be said? The Little Courtesy is over. You have all survived. You are now going to your final destination-with invitations to boot. And Charlotte will be getting that private audience, as promised.

But it's not over. Everyone knows it. Confrontation is inevitable. The question is what, exactly, will happen when that confrontation happens-or if anyone will in fact be able to go with Charlotte when it happens. But you've gone this far. There's no turning back. There has to be a way.

Nothing has been certain, or simple. Whatever happens will be no different from the horrors of the Little Courtesy. Perhaps the saying might still hold. Will all be well? Will it?

It must. God help everyone if it isn't.

Seven is the Number, but there are nine strangers left in this place.]

Comments

[biddentodance]

....Think it was what passes for an afterlife, here... Doors opening, and- souls in the light of a sun, not the green one, pretty sure it was a sun, anyway... Cogs. Machinery, taking them apart, piece by piece. Felt....anger. Felt, thought, a lot of things, not sure who I was but I wasn't me.

Suns...Judgements...they hunger.

[eternaldivide]

There was ... a door for me as well. After walking and ... my soul getting ready to die. I wasn't dead ... but I wasn't alive, either. Sorrow and ... terror ...

It wasn't me either but ... not sure who I was either.

[biddentodance]

Maybe....mine picked up where yours left off? Sounds similar enough... Whoever I was had long, brown hair. Not sure if the same person from the first one; if so...had a lover.