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Death

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

The explosive annihilation of your witch photographer, somewhere, in deepest darkest outer space

Written into a witch photographer’s covenant are the many forms of death available. From a simple ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ ๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ข ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ค๐˜ฉ to the ghastly ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ข ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ. Oddly, ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ง๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜บ 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 ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฉ ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต is stranger. Zipping around at FTL speeds, it is impossible to handbrake turn to avoid hot blue supergiant stars, which burn, frazzle and fryโ€”without any remains for recovery. Black hole spaghettification, burst apart by supernovaeโ€”all impossible for the usual ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ 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 dรฉjร  vu of utter atomic annihilation. And the photographs, of course.

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