The Death Of Maskul

Nightspore walked into the garden,

wabi-sabe with a twist of Monet…

…he remembered the pain he was

in when he was young…not the pain 

itself—which was gone—just the

memory that he had once been 

in pain. He could not actually recall 

the experience of the pain itself.

Not only was the pain gone, but also 

all the tricks he used to hide the pain

from others; the faces he prepared to

meet the other faces, the story of 

himself he handed out like leaflets to

anyone he encountered to explain so

he could hide the truth, constantly

pretending for the sake of appearance.

Nightspore remembered lines from 

Quasimodo: “Even my sadness, 

perhaps, has changed /as if I were not

my own/ forgotten, even by me.”

There was a knock at the door. Night-

spore opened it.

“Krag! My old friend! Do come in!”