Rhymes with “Itch”
By Chris Munroe
I’d thought losing my soul would hurt. It didn’t.
Well, maybe a little, but only for a moment.
Afterward, I thought I’d feel empty, like something important had been taken from me, and that much was true.
Something had been taken from me.
Guilt. Shame. The burden of caring about the needs of others.
Their absence is a weight removed from my shoulders.
I finally feel free.
My high priest takes the soul, weds it to the phylactery, and sends it with my minion to be hidden somewhere it will never be found.
And I rise from my altar, immortal.