Faisel’s Sorrows – Part 3

With a silent chuckle the little shit lowered the explicit gesture he had just thrown in Faisel’s direction, his face wore one of the purest depictions of self praise the furious spirit had ever seen.

Which of course was quite literally, so intolerably infuriating that, even having already lost his “shit”, the impossible rage that surged through the dead wizards translucent veins was transmogrified to something far, far worse. It seemed a blanket of red was dropped over the ghosts head, he knew quite literally nothing, but anger.

With an extremely unsatisfying silent roar, Faisel launched himself bodily at the little boy, his  fingers outstretched as he began his descent; fully intending to wring the little bastards neck, right up until he joined him in the afterlife. Obviously, what Faisel forgot in his righteous rage; was the fact that he himself, being part of the afterlife already, couldn’t so much as tickle a hair on the boy’s head. This realisation finally registered, the moment his fingers began to sink into the lad.

The furious wizard cursed himself for his stupidity as he quickly performed a number of mental calculations which instantly proved that it would be way to hard to stop himself by this point, his momentum too great, his body too weak. Well this is going to hurt. The self-pitying thought slugged through his head as he eyed the ground and its imminent impact distastefully. Quickly, the grouchy old dead man squeezed shut his eyes as if the fact the floor was no longer visible, meant it was no longer there.

Everything stopped. even with his eyes locked tightly shut, he could tell; although admittedly he had now idea how. Being dead and all, it wasn’t like the kiss of the wind of his skin was something to be relied upon… Mostly because technically, he didn’t actually have skin, therefore there were no receptors to let him know the wind was kissing him at all. But something had changed. Hmm.

Slowly, the dead man opened his eyes. What in the name of Dinkleton the damned? Faisel blasphemed internally, naming the holy traitor without a second thought. He was upright. Stood, upright. This in itself was strange, yes. But even weirder? It appeared that he had shrunken. Prior to this… Fall, or whatever had just happened, Faisel had been eye level with the top of ancient grandfather clock that ticked away mournfully over in one shadowed corner. But now? Now it appeared his eye level was barely mid-way up the clock, slightly smaller than the waist of his previous height.

“What the- ” Faisel cut off his words in shock as a young sounding, high pitched voice filled his ears with his own words. He knew that voice. The dead wizard’s eyes went wide. No… Fucking… Way. Hesitantly, he lowered his gaze. Sure enough, a soiled, once white shirt over a totally naked bottom half greeted his strangely sharp and focused eyeballs.

What’s going on? A small, scared little voice echoed within Faisel’s head.

Is that you Sid? His own words resounded loudly inside his mind.

Master? Again, another scared squeak. A wicked smile spread slowly across Faisel’s new lips as he stepped towards the mirror perched on top of the writing desk before him excitedly. Dammit. The wizard thought to himself as he realised, he was no longer tall enough to see directly into the thing. A small pale skinned hand darted forward in front of him, it’s tiny little fingers latched onto the leg of the nearby chair. The wicked smile grew as Faisel used the tiny little hand to drag the seat close enough for him to climb up onto, raising himself high enough to look directly into the mirror itself.

“Hah!” Called the dead man aloud as Sid’s grubby little face greeted him from the polished mirror before him, his own wicked smile mirrored strangely on the apprentice’s own face.

Master? What’s happening! Faisel’s almost manic laughter drowned out the soft, confused whimpering of the young boy’s voice. It was strange… The noise that came from Faisel, or well really, Sid’s mouth, was still Sid’s voice, although undoubtedly Faisel’s too. How intriguing… The dead wizard absentmindedly decided that a study on the language inflictions of one whilst in another’s body, was something he most definitely would pursue the study off. Although in good time of course. There was so much he wanted to do… He was young again!

With an almost fitting childish giggle, Faisel ran, not hobbled, or even shuffled, but ran to the door on the other side of the room.

So much to do!


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