Thomas Kinkade Victorian Autumn

Thomas Kinkade Victorian AutumnThomas Kinkade The Night Before ChristmasThomas Kinkade The Good Life
The wizards fell silent. The frost in the octogram began to sublime back into air.
‘Oh-oh, ‘ said the Bursar.
‘Short go.’
‘Not just people,’ said the Senior Wrangler.’It must be everything. Every thing that dies.’
‘Filling up the wadd with life force,’ said Ridcully. The wizards were speaking in a monotone, everyone’s mind running ahead of the conversation to the distant horror of the conclusion. ‘Hanging around with nothing to do,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
‘Ghosts.’transitional period? Is that what this is?’ said the Dean.The floor shook.‘Oh-oh, ‘ said the Bursar again.‘That doesn’t explain why everything is Living a life of its own,’ said the Senior Wrangler.‘Hold on . . . hold on,’ said Ridcully, ‘If people are coming to the end of their life and leaving their bodies and everything, but Death isn’t taking them away -‘ ‘Then that means they’re queuing up here,’ said the Dean. ‘With nowhere to