The dwarvish natives of the Arctic caverns did not speak his language, but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in the factories.
Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting, into Endless Night. Durring the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves’ invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozed in time.
He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas. His punishment was harsher.
I just ordered a bunch of these cards to give out for Christmas. Gaiman is a fuckin’ genius.
Neil Gaiman, Smoke and Mirrors