The cabin crackles, shattered from dull rumbling monotones.
We, cowering under these primordial shrieks of outrage, accusings, bitter vindictives, hurled wantonly with their spit; to none, to nowhere, to all, everywhere;
such as they are allowed a brief respite from HIS inferno.
The grand old man; older than Croesus. Bearing light no more; his charges a bitter compensation he hardly cares for.
So he sends them into the winds to haunt those they were created to serve, before time itself.
In our case a frail young woman, travelling, who according to those who would administer to her lot, had bargained badly with HE.
Another soul, another box ticked.
And all we have to do is get off at the next stop.
