Excerpt: The Din

It was then that the shadows started talking.

She’d been so wrapped up in her unraveling thoughts she hadn’t quite heard it at first. The sound started off as a small whine, slowly growing into a yowl of pain so loud it might shatter glass.

It turned into words, barely discernable as speech. “Agh, burns, it burns!” The voice was high and squeaky, and for some reason reminded her of burning rubber over shards of glass digging into the face of a dying cat, which happened to be clawing the hell out of some poor pedestrian (who, in turn, happened to be a leper).

The lights then flashed on, but there appeared to be gaps where umbra lay. Nothing seemed to cast them. They came in various sizes, stretching and bending before her eyes, yet remaining still somehow. Her eyes widened to take the multitude in, some tall, some short, some thin, some wide, some human, some not, but all shadows just the same. A small one danced around on the floor, clutching its hands and whimpering before another. A larger one (and by larger, we mean it was only large in comparison to the other shade people) stood at the front; it appeared more human than the rest, draped in a long black cloak that kept the upper half of its face in shadow. What showed of its skin was white—not just pale, but white, like the fine silks of Wil’s dress, like alabaster or porcelain. Only its eyes glowed out from under the dark created by its hood. It smiled.

“Took you long enough, now, dinnit?”