Something about the Travellers

Transition

The woman wore a white tshirt.

She also wore pants, but that isn't what mattered. The tshirt neither, but that's the first thing anyone noticed. Nobody can recall her face.

She showed up the day of the accident. In fact, some say she was waiting outside the hospital as he was wheeled in. She sat outside his room, only going in to see him when no one else was around. When the nurses called visiting hours to a close, she was not noticed. When the lights turned out, she was invisible. Only the other patients could see her, and they said nothing, for they could say nothing.

They were all dreaming.

She sat beside him, in the chair next to the bed, her hair down around her. It changed colors with the day, the tips, specifically to his condition. She worried when they started to turn black.

The doctors did what they could, they frantically rushed and cleared and injected, and in the end kept him up. She helped make sure of that.

The tips were white again soon enough.

She was there when he awoke.

He felt confused, but it was as if he expected her. They conversed briefly.

"Your work isn't done yet, child. I'm to remind you." She spoke softly, to him only.

He nodded, understanding her meaning.

"You are free from boundary now. Complete what you must, then look for me again. You will find me." She said, and they both felt the transfer of energy.

In the emergency room, a heart died. It belonged to a blond woman, the tips of her hair dyed the clearest white.