First Soul

Chapter Twelve

Eyes. Deep soulless pits that emanated copious amounts of despair seemed to pierce his nonexistent soul. He shivered. It was wrong of people to assume that he couldn't feel because he was a ghost, Lester felt everything, especially when he was in His presence.

Under such an intimidating glare, Lester attempted to wring his hands together, but they glided through one another, offering him very little comfort for his nerves. He did try and force back the urge not to squirm in front of Him. It wouldn't do much good to show such things because He loved feeding off emotions.

"You want me to do what exactly?" He leered.

Lester lowered his gaze, looking at the dry dirt on the floor. To have come here was a huge mistake. He knew that now. He could sense the exact moment His mood had shifted from mildly interested to annoyed. This could have repercussions on the youngsters, and he didn't want that. He shouldn't have done this.

But they needed to eat. They need clothes that weren't dripping wet so they wouldn't catch their death. This was the only way; He'd made sure this was the only way.

Lester could only think of this to help them. He was restricted in how much he could do whilst on this quest. Starvation and nearly drowning hadn't been part of the plan. He could change the plans of the quest on a whim. Whatever suited His mood at the moment could see the youngsters fighting for their lives like the young Stephen was doing now. Lester coming to see Him had changed the plan slightly.

He wouldn't like this.

"I need you to give me some wood for a fire," Lester repeated even though he knew He had heard the first time around. This was part of His little game. He loved the control He had.

"And why would I do that?"

Lester scrambled for a reply, one that would satisfy His insatiable thirst for fun and fear. "If they die before they reach you, this," Lester's arms sparkled as he waved them in frustration, "all this would have been for nothing. Do you want your plans to come to nothing?"

His face remained hidden in the midnight black cloak. The black syrupy fingers of the material seemed to stick to what passed for His face. Lester had seen the face only once, fortunately, He didn't show it often.

"You do raise an important point."

With those words, a pile of wood and a black bag which one would assume housed clothes, appeared at the side of the coal black path that led into His house.

"This comes with a price."

Lester knew the kind of price He was referring to. He also knew that it was worth it for the youngsters. He nodded his head and gathered the wood. The energy it took to lift the wood was draining, but he wouldn't complain. He walked slowly away from Him, leaving behind the stench of death and the cold imprint that had latched onto his soul.