Wheeling Gull Isle lyotard

a smile. it melted over the dog's features. it had a bitter aftertaste.

irony?

mockery?

"ashes to ashes, father." the dog said, pulling itself away from the skies. 

the shepherd now looked so small, like a nothing-thing. the beating body assigned him the misery it had just abandoned.

the dog turned. there was a thought to give a parting word...

then it passed, traceless.

the newborn walked the water, towards the mainland.