Mogtober 2022!

7: The Gossamer

John Arjuna Korrapati walked the halls of the Deucalion one last time, vividly remembering the very first time he had been here, and all the times since. His mother had been taking him to see his Uncle Jove for the first time, when he was five years old. That was before he got his eyepatch, so he'd been able to see all the colors and webs that people left behind themselves on the gossamer. 

He'd ask his mother if she could see them too, and she hadn't known what he was talking about. He'd been embarrassed for asking, but when Uncle Jove ran out of the Hotel Deucalion's doors to greet them, he'd immediately known that Uncle Jove could see it too. There was a sort of purple web between them. 

His uncle had also been the first person to call him Jack. It was an interesting story. Uncle Jove had thought that his name was Jack for about six months before John told him that it wasn't Jack, but by the time he told Uncle Jove, he had grown to like that. So, his name became Jack. By the time John became Jack, his mother had died. That was why he was first taken to the Deucalion: because his mother was unwell and needed to go to hospital. According to the doctors, she'd died before she even got to the hospital because she was that unwell. Uncle Jove hadn't told Jack what she had died of in case it upset Jack, but Jack saw it anyway. On the Gossamer. 

On his seventh birthday, Jack got his eyepatch. He'd started getting affected by his Witness ability, and as much as he hated the eyepatch, he hated the headaches more. It took quite a bit of getting used to, but Uncle Jove insisted that he didn't take breaks from wearing his eyepatch. When he was thirteen, he met Morrigan Crow. He didn't look at her through the gossamer for ages, heeding Uncle Jove's warning that seeing the gossamer after so long would give him a shock, but when he eventually did her through the gossamer, it was completely by accident.

After that, Jack had convinced Uncle Jove to train him in the ways of a Witness. by his eighteenth birthday, he had learnt to filter everything out without his eyepatch.

Now, walking through the dark halls at the age of 97, Jack looked back on all the good times. He knew he wouldn't be able to come back here. Jack was very frail and very old, and very soon he'd be in a care home, unable to walk without help, and soon after that, he'd be gone, and all of those memories would be gone with him.

Jack and Morrigan had been married, there had been so many good times, but when Jupiter had died, Morrigan had been so sad that she too had died, despite all the Wundrous energy swarming around her. 

Jack had tried to keep the Hotel Deucalion going for a while, but then he just got too old, and it fell into disuse. But there was one last thing for Jack to do. He went to the rooftop, remembering all the amazing times he'd had here. The first time he'd seen Morrigan, on that Morningtide all those years ago.

Smiling with the bittersweet memories, Jack opened his satchel and placed the book that he'd written. Books about Morrigan. Books about Jupiter, Martha, Dame Chanda, the Wundrous Society and so many people. There were nine books in total, and each and every one of them was about Morrigan. This was the final book in the nine. The others were put in the Deucalion, one in each of his best friends' favourite rooms. Morrigan's bedroom for Morrigan, Jupiter's study for Jupiter, the Smoking Parlour for Frank, the lobby for Kedgeree, the Music Salon for Dame Chanda, the hall of shadows for Hawthorne, the desert-beach room for Cadence, the kitchen for Martha, and lastly, for himself, the place that had been not only his favourite, but one of the only places where they all came together. The first place they'd all been together, and the one with the happiest memories.

Jack smiled, as he placed the ninth book in a watertight box, then put it in one of the disused and blocked up chimneys. He knew, deep in his heart, that someone would come and find the books. Every last one of them, maybe even publish them. Of course, by then Nevermoor would be gone, and a new world would have grown up on the Earth, and everything would be passed off as pure fiction, but someone would find out about everything that had happened. Eventually.

Jack had one last thing to do. He raised his camera and, with a click, captured the memory of his last visit to the Hotel Deucalion. The orange sun was setting in a red and purple sky, the rooftop of the Deucalion had never looked more dramatic in the unusual light. The box that contained the final book was ever so slightly poking up from the chimney, but the best thing of all was the purple plaque that Morrigan had created a few years ago, when she found out the origins of the Hotel Deucalion. It read: Here stands the Hotel Deucalion, a phenomenon created by the Wundersmiths Elodie Bauer and Ezra Squall, sponsored by Charles North. A gift to the people of Nevermoor.

Jack took one last look at the hotel, then clicked open his brolly and jumped into the wind.

Sorry I'm a bit late publishing this one, I was really busy! I thought I'd do a sentimental one that sort of linked to the world as we know it. Did you like it?