The Wait of the Soul

Part 6

Euphoric in fresh conviction, his only desire was to pull her into his arms. The heart he had believed a husk for so long, thundered.

Letty heard from somewhere the words 'My love', a plaintive soft sigh of joy and sadness.

The world about her grew distant, she let Sophie's small hand slip from hers as she reached up to touch...

Nothing, nothing was there.

She jerked back, frightened now.

Where a moment ago had been a place of wonder, the assurance of love...was now just empty space.

"Is Sophie coming to Troy's birthday party, it's at Play World?" The other mother looked concerned. "You OK? You look like you seen a ghost!"

###

He ran...

Or he thought he did. And all the time the whisper in his ear..."You fool, they are lepers..."

Atop the highest point of the city, he halted, breathless. But how could he be breathless, he who did not breath?

"Think you found your lost love? What do you think she'll do when you pop up with your...BOO! Want some ethereal cock?"

"LEAVE-ME-BE!"  The lungs he believed functionless were torn by his roar, shoulders heaving as he wept.

"GOD...HELP ME..."  The cry should have rent the heavens. He fell to his knees, whispering through tears "Free me...Mother of Heaven...Free me."

But his tormentor was still at his side, the sneering mock concern always the same. "Oh, pretty boy, is she yearning for you? You think?"

"Be gone... plague me no more."  The Watcher flailed hopelessly about him as if to strike his former master.

"Did you learn so little from me? Was my instruction completely wasted?" The Shade surrounded him, slid about his crouched limbs. "All these centuries gone, all human stupidity exposed. Do you not see, they are but playthings."

The scornful whining grievances pained the Watcher's ears.

"At best they are to be collected, observed for their worth as mere... novelties."  

The low sound of chuckling disgust from that twisted mind made him shiver, gag. He convulsed, rolled forward.

And heard no more.

###

The bathroom was a wreck of damp towels, water sodden toys and puddles, all topped off with the scent of clean child. Letty sat on the closed toilet and looked about her.

Soso was in her own bed for a change. Usually, when Letty was on day shift and they had an almost normal routine; Soso would only sleep in her mother's bed. But tonight, once tucked in with her much-loved Kanga and Bear, clutching her favourite car, she was asleep as her head hit the pillow.

Leaving her mum to dissect her own recent mood swings, the bizarre sensitivity she felt.

All she could think of was some sort of hormone imbalance, perhaps early menopause?

Stress?

No, more likely stress.

Picking up the damp debris and mopping up splashed bathwater, she made herself think about diseases of the bowel and their attendant symptoms, much easier to deal with. 

###

She was sleeping; lying stretched out on the battered sofa, a book resting open across her thigh.

The Watcher sat cross-legged, fascinated by the curve of her cheek, the fall of tousled curls.

This was not a thing he did.

When first abandoned to this existence he would stumble carelessly into the homes of the living, searching for...he knew not what. But in his anger and sorrow, he had no mind to the wrong he did. He would rail and thunder at the occupants till he grew heartsick of it.

But that was long ago.

Now he observed only in places of work, entertainment, the streets. He no longer intruded into homes...till he had seen her.

At this moment he could smell the very air. If he reached out he believed he would feel the rhythm of the blood in her veins.

This was different.

She twisted, grimaced, a small cry, so muted he was unsure if it was a cry, escaped her lips.

Her dreams, what were they?

Did she dream of him?

No, that was a foolish conceit. She knew nothing of him. That this was his Arlette, his little bird, was the notion of a lovesick simpleton.

The evil shade was right, he was a fool.

A low moaning hum of pleasure, a small artless smile and her body tensed...

The book fell to the floor and she sat up, startled awake, looking about her bemused. But the confusion of waking from her dream was soon gone.

He moved back, fearing lest he might accidentally brush her skin.

Aye, a fool he truly was. He was a ghost, nought but a quirk in the ether, he could not touch.

Rolling her shoulders, stretching her back, Letty moved to her bedroom, pulling off her jumper as she went.

He froze.

Too late he realised she was taking off all her clothes. Once more he was just a man looking at the fulsome body of a woman.

She pulled the old baggy tee-shirt over her head and wriggled into the protective warmth of the bed.

It was too much...

He left then, his mind a whir with questions, emotions he had forgotten. There was no pattern he recognised here. For over eight hundred years he had watched, studied, considered. Gone from cynical, misguided fool, to saddened, but resigned philosopher. He had come to believe this was his Hell. But he had been shriven at death, perhaps he had been in a state of grace, and this time spent watching was, in fact, his term in Purgatory?

But did men in Purgatory feel lust?

He thought not.