Turning Away Warm Bodies

Chapter Six: My Faded Void

(Photo: Taylor Crane)

[Renee Lamia]

  The soft pink of my hand flickers in the fires light. I sit patiently by the flames, every so often glancing back at the still motionless Sheldon. His chest rises and falls slowly, his breathing relaxed. Every now and then, a soft moan will escape his lips, but he still has yet to wake. I return my gaze to my hand which glows softly in the fires light.

  I'm entranced by the subtle lines that run across the surface of my skin, the texture soft, yet it appears so rigid. I carefully force the tips of my fingers on my palms, pulling them away to watch the pale color fade away into the pink. The detail is so crisp, yet every line inns hidden, every color blending into each other, done so subtly as we barely even notice. The tremendous work it must take to create something so profound, yet the entire picture, always overlooked. My mind swims in the glorious creation, drowning in my thoughts.

  I'm brought alert to my reality once more when I feel a calm set of green eyes on me. I turn to find Sheldon starring at me, his expression appearing relaxed, though I can sense how confused he really is.

  It's silent in that moment, our eyes locked on each others as he tries to put together what has happened, my mind shifting through the different responses I could give him when he finally gathered enough strength to speak.

  His voice is rough when he finally does, but it smooth's out gradually the more he speaks. "Renee?" I don't respond to my name, my eyes still, my entire composure stagnant. "How am I--?"

  "You're welcome." I cut him off, returning my gaze to the flames. I dare not stare into his innocent emeralds any longer, for they seem to burn me. He doesn't need to speak for me to know what he longs to say, though can't. There are no words to send the message of how truly confused he is.

  When people are raised, they are taught that they only get one chance to live; that when death comes, there is no turning back. But now he knows that the foundation to his entire existence has crumbled, and can no longer comprehend even the most basic of logic. What once was something he knew for certain no longer shows true, and everything else falls along side it. You're no longer human, you're undead.

  "How did you?" his voice is surprisingly calm when he speaks again.

  I'm hesitant at first, staring at the flickering light. "You know exactly how I brought you back." he's silent, waiting for me to go on. Slowly, I turn to look at him, my expression blank. "I'm a necromancer."

  He stares at me, his eyes cutting into me like daggers. "I remember you saying that you didn't know how you did it."

  "I don't but..." I revert my gaze down at the stone flooring below the burning blaze. "Something came over me and..." I hesitantly shift my gaze to catch a glimpse of his perplexed expression. "It was different this time."

  His expression alters subtly. "What do you mean?" His hands shaking slightly, glide over the fabric of the hazel couch he lays on. His arms struggle to gather the energy needed to raise him so that he is sitting up; his muscles, magnificent as they are, flexing. I wait until his breathing calms before I respond, giving him time to adjust to his new lifeless body.

  I'm silent for a moment, starring into his deeply confused eyes, then movement. "There were souls."

  "Souls? Like human souls?" his features shift into something a mix of disturbed yet also intrigued.

  I nod, the memory flashing in front of me once more. My lips move, describing what happened as I recall every detail.

~