He motioned to the pastor, who leaned to listen to him. Then, upon the man’s bidding, the pastor sat down. Wills sat down as well and stared at the floor, no longer desiring to look at the old man. He was indeed old, old perhaps beyond a normal man’s years, or normal reckoning. And yet, upon his face there burned an unquenching vigour, as of fire, or the unbearable glow of the sun in the evening-gloam. It pierced through the gray shadows of the audience and caused them to stir uncomfortably. Murmurs went up in the cold mists. The man spoke, and remarkably, his words were perfectly understandable. Wills trembled.

Read the rest here: The Dream of Pastor Wills