Thirty-nine:
Nia
Nothing is ever the same as when you were there the first time. You are always a little older, a little bit changed. They will have painted things to freshen up. Or the neighbors will have moved from the house next door. Or someone will have died that you can never see ever again. Time moves on, and so, hypothetically, do you. Yet, at the same time, it stands still. When you return to the place that shaped you then you revert back to the person that you were. As if the ghost of who you are is still roaming the halls and fields, waiting for you to return. To acknowledge what you left behind.
The Netherworld was neither Heaven nor Hell. Nor Faerie. Nor Dreamland. Nor the Nightmare world. It was it’s own, pocket realm. A place for lost souls. Som
