Through the last days of a hot September where pears are picked and potatoes are put in the ground to rot, they watched the theatre around them. Every morning they watched and enjoyed being ghosts, looking on as the world of the living whirled around under their fixed gaze.
They couldn't save themselves from this thing inside them, they didn't know what it was or where it came from but it filled them. It filled the castle, the air, the sea, the market stalls, it escaped from the lungs of the fisherman and even the fish they brought lifeless from the sea seemed full of it. Every sound from city and sea, from man and beast, carried its longing to their hungry ears.
Some would get lost, lonely and fade away. Few would go back living their lives.