Bemusements; or, How a Man Finds Himself Masturbating and Unwell

(Part 1 - August's Revival) Chapter 0-1 - After Death/Seance for Children

Chapter 0 - After the Dark Magician's Death

Life...

Is a mannequin that tries many different clothes.

In this case, a strong and valiant, if not extremely nerdy and conniving trickster illusionist-sorcerer, who was a red jacket, had been untimely stripped off the mannequin and had been put inside a closet, the closet being the afterlife.

August Porter, from what I've heard from his many supportive friends in their eulogies of multitude, who truly loved him like family, was a gifted illusionist. He might've been a trickster who got a kick out of lying to people using tricks and facades, but that was what made him a good, good witch. Or wizard. I don't know. His friends use "witch" and "wizard" interchangeably as a part of their colloquial language and everyday nomenclature.

He was a true friend, who stood by his comrades...

...to the very end.

He was a fighter who vehemently fought against the oppressive regime of Emperor Belos, and his doctrine against "wild magic", and his "coven system" that has done nothing but separate and segregate people, wrought conflicts, and marginalized and ostracized dissenters.

He fought side by side with Luz the Human and her friends in this fight against his tyrannical structure and despotic, totalitarian, and if I'm frank, racist and misogynist tendencies as "Emperor" of the Boiling Isles; a covetous, idiosyncratic ruler who brought pretty much nothing but pain and tears and grief in the Boiling Isles, the Demon Realm, and my home, and all the rest.

He contributed to an all-inclusive and freeing peace; a hard-won, peaceful peace.

He never really believed in the coven system of Belos, so he - as a result - had no prerogative to incline to such constraints of propriety.

He died in a peaceful world; a world that was markedly shaped a bit by him.

His funeral happened to be attended by lots of different people, who regarded the boy as a hero, a freedom fighter, a friend.

His father shed furtive tears that day, and was proud that his son pretty much changed the world.

The proceedings were dismal and despondent, with Hunter and Willow, Luz, Amity, and all the rest crying like young people who had lost a dear friend, which was true. And not anything that was delineated with happiness and optimism.

The march to his grave was definitive; it was raining and it was a long walk to his grave alongside a select few people: I was among the pallbearers.

And when the casket - open in his honour, with him fashioning what he wore on the day of his death: a fancy set of clothing consisting of a shirt, a jacket, black pants and shoes, and a scarf, as well as a mirror earring, a gift from the former Illusionist coven head - was lowered, there upon the front of me laid an obelisk.

An obelisk worth ten-tons of granite, spanning 4-feet, sculpted in the traditional gravestone fair, with an engraving of an image depicting Christ, the Son, the Archangel Gabriel, his mother Peninnah Jane Porter, and a Cherubim, lifting him to the clouds with his countenance being that it's as if he's surprised to be carried up. The only time I've ever seen Jesus' influence in the Boiling Isles.

And when the dirt filled the hole with his casket inside it, Luz did something unusual: he put upon the top of the grave a worn-out blue bucket covered with dirt and stuff. Apparently, August was gifted that bucket by Luz as a souvenir, and because he had always wanted to own one.

After the deed was done, everybody walked away dispirited, disheartened, saddened, all by the notion of losing a too-loved loved one too soon, but I was standing by his grave, not sad, but with a mix of confusion and surprise. Where did those Belos supporters come from, and how did they find us? Why did they get here to attack a bunch of young adults for a death they themselves weren't directly involved in? Unless they were?