Member-only story
Where Girls Run Wild Through the Fields
Between this world and the next, we run free.
Father taught me the ways of soul-singing long before I could even walk. In vague memories I recall the way he held me up in his arms, and my fingers ran along the translucent spheres that only those with the Sight were able to see and touch. To my eyes, there was a glow like the touch of the sun rising on the horizon.
Then Father would begin to sing, and the orbs’ light began to brighten with a pulse like that of a racing heartbeat. I would watch avidly, my gaze following after each bounce and swerve of the spheres.
“See, Mina?” Father whispered once. He took one of my hands and guided it along the trail the orbs traveled. “What I’m doing now is what you’ll do once I’m gone. You are the legacy. Each one of your songs will be able to guide a lost soul home.”
At the time, I thought it was all very wondrous and exciting. But I know better now.
Father died last year, and ever since I’ve been shepherding lines of souls to their resting place at the entrance to the underworld. I close my eyes and see the gate that only allows the dead to pass through. They call these paths leading up to the doorway the Plains. Someday I too will be guided by a soul-singer to this entrance.
