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christmas special; part three
IP: 95.149.91.94
Posted on December 25, 2009 at 04:06:39 PM by georgia

It’s difficult to even place one foot in front of the other when she’s seething this much. The arrogance of it is the worst. Instantly categorising people as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ based solely on what they did in a past life – no opportunity for second chances – and casting out the ‘bad’ to live an eternal existence of torture and starvation. Hell, Aura realises, is exactly its namesake, and no one should ever deserve that. Perhaps murderous dictators like Hitler, Stalin and Scar shouldn’t be allowed to live in everlasting paradise (which, believe me, the commune isn’t) – but they shouldn’t be denied their basic human rights. It isn’t justice, what the ‘good ones’ are doing; it’s revenge. “Aura! Wait up!” Aura’s in no mood to listen to Heath Ledger, no matter how cute he was in A Knight’s Tale. She ignores him and continues walking, stuffing her hands into her pockets and glowering at everything that moves. The sound of human feet drumming the hard earth behind her causes her to stop and spin around suddenly; to her immense satisfaction, Heath has to pinwheel his arms to prevent himself from running into her. “Wait,” he pants. “Screw you,” retorts Aura, who has always wanted to say that, and turns to leave. Heath catches her arm, grinning. “It’s not what you think.” “It’s exactly what I think.” “You passed, darl.” She pauses and turns back to him, frowning. His silly, lopsided smile is already crawling back onto his face as he takes her hand and leads her back through the maze of hand-crafted houses to the inn. With her nose in the air she enters first, but reels back at the storm of applause which greets her: every member of the council plus a good number of the raiders are gathered in the cosy room, grinning and clapping. Heath puts his arm around her shoulders, Kenny slaps her on the back and Larka licks her hand affectionately. Aura wipes the drool on Heath and frowns confusedly at him. “It was a test,” he explains, still smiling. “We have to test everyone who enters the commune, to see if they’re prejudiced or not. Those who fail are passed on to other communes – they can spread their racist lies somewhere else. We only take the people who are prepared to start anew here.” The small, blonde-haired girl gazes around the room dumbly, trying in vain to take it all in. Heroes and villains from history and fiction stand side by side, talking and laughing jovially like old friends. She catches Hitler and Gandhi exchanging relieved hugs, Davy Jones and Abraham Lincoln laughing at a joke told by Stalin and Pythagoras explaining to Jack precisely why the Titanic wouldn’t have sunk if it was triangular. It seems... surreal. Heath is watching her closely. Realising that he’s waiting for an answer to his unasked question, she nods silently and gives his hand a light squeeze. This little commune in the realm of the dead isn’t quite Shaman, but it’ll do. “You know,” says Heath quietly, “on Earth – it’s Christmas Day.” Aura blinks once in surprise and smiles. “Merry Christmas, Heath Ledger.” “Merry Christmas, Aura.” It’s a raucous night – Aura can’t remember the last time she’s been in a room full of so many happy people. There may be no sense of time in the realm of the dead, but that doesn’t stop the dearly (and not so dearly) departed from forgetting how to have a good time on Christmas Day. Eva Cassidy gets up and begins to sing something vaguely familiar, to which Michael Jackson rather inappropriately starts moon dancing. Brom and Van Gogh pull a cracker loaded with gunpowder, which explodes rather loudly and causes Stephen Lawrence and a group of unknown youths to fall about laughing. Even Pythagoras giggles nervously at Brom’s blackened face; the latter starts having a coughing fit and is slapped on the back by Gandhi. A rather large man – who announces himself as Ramses II’s head chef – strolls in while the party is in full swing with large platters of flaming Christmas puddings. It’s not the best party Aura’s ever been to, but it’s certainly the most uplifting. She feels a pair of eyes on her and turns to see Larka watching her quietly. “You smell at ease now,” the white wolf growls; “you didn’t before.” “Christmas is a time for coming together and giving. It’s a time for being with those you love and remembering those you can’t be with.” “From the lands of Transylvania and the pages of fiction, merry Christmas, Aura.” “From Shaman and I, a very merry Christmas to you.”

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