Horace Qumar's story - written by ErianaMoon
It was early one October night. The air was thin and cold but Horace was sitting in his usual spot under the big oak tree in the cemetery. He knew it was important to be here this time of year because with the vale between worlds thinner her could reach out farther and find souls who were even more lost than usual. As he sat he saw a young girl come up to him. For a moment he mistook her for just another keeper in the cemetery until he realized she was a spirit.

He listened carefully as she told him about her death. Her father had died very suddenly in a fire trying to save her. She had been hit on the head by a house beam and fallen in to a coma. She had been in the coma for 20 years and when she finally "awoke", which is what she called dieing, she couldn't find her father anywhere.

Horace looked about her trying to find the bond only to find it broken. "That's what I was afraid of." He muttered to himself. Then he spoke to her, "I'll help you don't worry. Can you remember his voice? Maybe a song he used to sing to you?" Slowly he hard her start singing. She was singing very quietly but steady. Then, very slowly, the singing got a little louder as another voice joined in. Then together both voices gradually got louder until playing off one another the melody began to weave together in to a thread.

Gently he took the girls hand and spiritually they followed the thread. They followed it for a long time and all the wile the singing continued. Then slowly threw the fog of time a figure came. He looked as though he had ash all over him and his cloths were badly burned. As he set eyes on the little girl one tear fell from his eye cutting a path in soot down to his chin. As they approached he fell to his knees and took the girl in his arms. As he did the ash disappeared and his clothing mended to look brand new. As both singers held one another and the song drifted away the thread that the melody had formed warped around and around them. The ends attached to each spirit and the thread turned to gold. Horace Knew the spirits would never be lost again and quietly snuck away back to his own body under the old oak tree.