MeatCanyon

A young man, tears still welling in his eyes, became infatuated with the pungent piece of wood.

He hummed a tune to himself as he bowed his head, one I had heard before from a far older, reclusive man.

Oh, I like that note randomly that this man's from like the same area as the light keeper.

And then there's like a similarity between the two.

Like in this moment of desperation, it's more commonality than this thing they're witnessing.

That's a nice little subtle tone.

I like that.

Wraith's eyes were fixed on the effigy.

Beside him, faint murmurs bubbled out while behind us, lanterns flickered once, twice, and the wind let out a keen hounding sigh.

Someone in the rear, near where I had found myself, shuffled with uncertainty.

Glancing at him, it seemed the entrance itself had grown further away.

Then the young man spoke in a pitiful, quivering whisper.

"'Bless us, oh priest!'

A suffocating silence fell upon the room.

It happened too fast.

I opened my eyes and spun to count the faces.

Rafe, the boy, and myself, and… no one."

Footprints, damp and scattered, traced aimless tracks on the stone.

The others were gone.

Extinguished as quickly as they'd burned.