the story

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I watched her walk along the shore where the tide crept up to caress the sand. The wind blew in her hair, occasionally getting stuck in the deep red lipstick she wore. Her face held no emotion as she continued her walk. I was here for a reason. And she could probably sense me but I just couldn't force myself to. To take her and push her to safety but I knew she would be missed. By a lot of people. She can't see me but she can most likely taste me, the aroma getting caught on her pink tounge. The sweet acrid smell of death.the saccharine sour taste of heaven or hell. Wherever her door leads to.

I start to walk toward her to collect her soul but I simply can't. She is to beautiful and the sadness is etched deep in her skin. I stop. Then I start walking again, raging against the emotions forcing me to back down. She is so close, her smell drifts on the wind to where I stiffen my pace. The urge to grab her and hug her sadness away is overwhelming but I resist. Mostly because it's against the rules.

I run ahead of her and block her path. She could walk through me and not notice but I do one of the many things I am not supposed to. I allow her to see me.

Her eyes go quickly from glazed to aware. Aware of the guy about her age standing right in her path. She squeals and skids in her path across the sand. I hold up a hand. "Don't be afraid. Please." She stares at me for a moment and then deciding she I probably going to die stays.

I look at her eyes. Blue cornflower eyes stare up at me filled with wonder and sadness and something else I couldn't place. I fumble with finding the words to explain why I'm here and what I'm not going to do. I finally settle on; "you won't believe me." As the start of my story.

And instead of not believing story. She smiles and then frowns. Debating on wether or not she should be freaking out. Instead she lifts her hand and gestures for me to lift my own. Her hand touches my own. Palm on Palm, fingers against fingers. Then the point of contact starts to glow. She smiles slightly. Just a quirk of the mouth. Pecks me on the cheek and walks away.

Not knowing that fate will drag us together in the years to come and bringing more to the plate than just a bit cancer that the doctors will wonder over when they see its been cured.

I watch her beautiful ghostly form walk away and then I fade back to where I belong, where death is the only resort.

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