Death

It’s time we talked about death. Happens to all of us. For some, more times than we can count.

Written into a witch photographer’s covenant are the many forms of death available. From a simple 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 to the ghastly 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭. Oddly, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘺 is, as well, in the list. (I, nor anyone I have spoken to, has heard of such.)

Also listed are the get better protocols. Which relies on how fast and how much the local recovery teams, recover. For instance, being scared to death by a ghost saying boo at a calculated inopportune moment is an easy ??? ??????. Your corpse is easily found and complete. Getting burned, eaten and your bones spat out by a dragon is more complicated, and recovery teams definitely have issues picking through troll regurgitation for your parts.

But, out in cold, deep, outer space, the space fairy 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 is stranger. Zipping around at FTL speeds, it is impossible to handbrake turn to avoid hot blue supergiant stars, which burn, frazzle and fry—without any remains for recovery. Black hole spaghettification, burst apart by supernovae—all impossible for the usual 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 recovery teams.

So, space fairies have devised re-runs, do-overs, replays. You are returned to yesterday, or fast-forwarded to tomorrow. Still with the ripping pain memory of your love potatoes being stretched to infinity. Still with the disturbing déjà vu of utter atomic annihilation. And the photographs, of course.