Even in the absence of living, there is no death. The energy is merely transferred. . .
Pushing through the crowds I saw her. No, not her, she was light. Yes, her body was light, her hair was light, even her eyes, her large, oval eyes, were the purest form of light reflected from the moon that devoured her body half in shadows, half in her new found light. "She" was non-matter. I knew this and I stood in awe. Her body was neither curvy nor flat and stiff. Her hands clasped her chest tightly as she began to contemplate the sin she was about to commit. Sin? In this world, in this plane, is there Sin? Unknown. Anyway, thinking now about actions yet to come, her oval eyes shivered. The world had forsaken her and the 'W' was a three clawed hand that had scarred her brain or lack there of. She looked back at me and said:
" Yelper in the moutain, stealer of the men. Flower of the mountain, still the men then. . . This one is for Her, and this one for She, and this one for. . ."
She stopped. For who? Who was it for?
THIS IS MERELY AN ATTENTION GRABBER. NOW, TO THE MAIN ATTRACTION.
YOU ARE READING
Dreaming Of My Shadow
Short Story" As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being." --Carl Jung There has never been one "world" and one singular connection to these "worlds". Each line is different to each being. Ea...
