Daelyn Morgana takes a second #SwiftFicFriday win!
Check out her story below and congratulate her on Twitter 🙂
The quiet disbelief in Bishop’s voice made her look up from the chair. “Hello, Bishop,” she replied, reserved and saddened. Morticia stood, dress cascading around her like rippling water.
“How- How-” Brown eyes were wide, his face ashen like the newfound highlights of her black hair. “You- Y-Y-You died. I saw you…die.” His voice rushed out in a single breath.
That admittance sent a stab through her heart. He had been there that day after all? Watching from the sidelines, allowing me to hang? Had he been standing on the church steps behind me when I dropped through the trapdoor and felt my neck snap? The wave of anger that washed through her is fueled by Mortaem’s presence in her soul.
He could never be here for this bitter reunion. They both knew that. He had respected her decision to say goodbye to the man that betrayed her. Her husband. Ex-husband. Even with her steady presence at his side, the Reaper would never have let Bishop draw another breath.
“I did die.”
Bishop rubbed at his eyes, blinked a couple times, rubbed again. “Are- Are you real?” He stepped forward, hand outstretched. Hesitated. Drew back sharply. Shakily reached again.
“I am real.”
“You look…so different. You’re… practically glowing. Tish, how?”
Even being a devoted church worshipper she knew he would never believe her story. How all the gods and goddesses, all of them, actually existed. How she had ended up with the God of Souls. Death. Her Mortaem.
Her lover. Her equal.
Bishop would never believe her story of ascending to divinity. She was Birth now. One of the highest of them all.
Morticia glanced down.
“Tish, I-I’m so sorry. I love-”
Tears choked her conviction. “Don’t. You aren’t. Don’t be so pretentious. Goodbye, Bishop.”
Come back on Friday for the next prompt!