Chapter 4: Risen Festival and the Tragic Mist

Before the Caralids could even take a breath, the risen swarmed over to the ramshackle sled of loot that the Caralids had obtained from the robbers of uncertain identity.

Ismi could only watch in horror as her ill-gotten filthy lucre was taken bit by bit. The risen put everything to good use. They made a stage from the sled, lanterns from the loot and decorations on lines to string between the empty shell houses.

Every now and then two or more risen would engage in a tug of war or an all out brawl. Many a skeleton’s head was knocked off, which only added to the chaos of the risen making a festival, as they chased after the skulls and impromptu games of foot-multiball arose.

“Dear, they are taking all the loot!” Yerdl worried.

“Shush dear” Ismi responded nervously “Everything is fine as long as they don’t go for the honey drink”

She didn’t really want to part with the loot, but anything that didn’t result in the risen turning nasty on them was a fair price.

The three frulids froze in fright as a bedsheet like ghost stared at the crates that held the caravamel’s goods.

Thankfully for the Caralid family, a foot-multiball player grabbed the ghost to throw into the face of another player, thus they were spared further notice.

“Ey mama, can I join the game?” Kejo asked bashfully.

“No” Ismi refused flatly.

However, by that point, Kejo had already joined in, scuttling about butting the skulls that served as balls about with his pot.

Speaking of games, the risen had managed to set up several stalls from the remains of the loot-sled too. They had a number of classic festival stands. Though, it was mildly unnerving the ones that had nothing at the stands and yet both the owner and the customers would mime out the actions.

The food stands were particularly ridiculous, such as the noodle stand, which mostly involved a bunch of risen standing around with empty bowls making slurping noises.

The bowling alley they put together was fairly good too.

Though, skulls were the balls and the pins were bones. This usually resulted in a number of risen being smashed when they tried to collect their parts back from the alley.

“This is all quite worrying dear” Ismi said to Yerdl.

There was no reply.

“Dear? Dear?”

“Roll up, Roll up for a one in an unlifetime chance! Dare you challenge the mysterious CHALLENGE WHEEL?” Yerdl cried out.

He was right in front of a ramshackle wheel with a cover over it.

“Dear. What are you doing Dear? Do you understand the situation we are in?” Ismi said, pot quivering.

Yerdl awkwardly tapped his pot.

“Well, this guy said he was bored and that I could take over, and then well, it just kind of happened” He explained.

“Well, you can stop! It is dangerous to get involved with these risen!” Ismi warned.

“But dear!” Yerdl whined “look!”

Yerdl shoved a sack over to Imsi, it had quite a few of Elcon’s not terribly valued coin, krells and even a few gems. The gems sparkled particularly invitingly.

“ROLL UP! ROLL UP!” Ismi cried energetically.

The village that was quite dead have become very colourful, lively and so on. It was however, still filled with dead people.

While Ismi and Yerdl ran a stand, Kejo was attracted to the stage the risen had built.

The risen had just started a play.

No matter how hard he tried, Kejo could not make out what the actors were saying, nor could he tell what was going on. He could see, but he could not comprehend. Yet still, emotion welled within him and tears came to his eyes.

He could not comprehend the obscured play, but he felt very strongly it was a tragic one.

When the actors finished they bowed and then with a blow of one of the winds, they dispersed and vanished like dust.

Kejo felt a chill from his fingertips right into the tip of his pot covered abdomen.

The risen did not cry at this or the end of the play, they laughed.

Even as the watchers of the play themselves blew away.

One by one the risen enjoying the festival blew away until only the frulids were left, the frulids and a thick mist.

“W-what’s going on?” Kejo asked, rushing as fast a a frulid can to his parents (not very fast).

“I don’t know son, maybe they’ve had their regrets fulfilled or something like that?” Yerdl said.

Ismi looked up from her bag of new filthy lucre.

“I don’t think it works like that, but hurry, let’s get out of here while the place is properly dead!”

Indeed, the village, though more festive looking, had returned to it’s prior stillness.

The scuttling of the Caralid family was loud in the absence of other sounds.

Yet, just as they had gotten onto the caravamel and roused Turmeric who had actually laid down and had a nap amid the risen festival, a moan whispered through the air.

The risen had not vanished.

The Caralids looked on in horror as the risen came lurching from the mist. There was none of their previous joviality, the risen did not even seem hungry, just empty and blank.

Though they shambled, soon they had encircled the caravamel.