The other night I wrote an ending. It wasn’t happy. It didn’t go out of it’s way to offer details regarding how the two people had gotten to that point in their lives. I hoped to mirror that with a happier ending. Maybe even make up an ensemble ending for an epic fantasy adventure, but that’s hard.
Just now I considered writing the ending to some story I’d already read or a movie I’d already scene. I’m not good at recalling details, so I could probably do that easily enough. Instead I’ll root through my own stuff and see how much luck I have at jumping ahead.
And ending for A Bell Hunting Interlude featuring Charnwyn, Franwyn, and jealous narrator, Conwyn…
I placed the rega on Charnni’s chest and stepped back. The monks, who had been chanting softly, intoned the crematory spell louder. The air above Charnni’s body wavered from the increasing density of magic. I stayed close enough to feel the creche stone absorbing the that power; I hoped to be burnt by it’s release.
Then, remembering something Franny had said to me, I turned. “Conni, [something totally poinent and applicable].” The shadow of magic felt cooling on my face. It felt refereshing. It felt like an apology. I untied the silk funerary cloth from my shoulder and let it slip. The material felt like my soul sliding away as it fell to the ground an left me utterly naked in front of our gathered friends.
I stepped from the circle, through the crowd, and into the night. Charnni was dead, Franny was lost, and I was alone.
280 words on day 597