At the depth of the room, where the background is confused by the fetid mouth of death, he sat. It is not human, not animal, it is all that exists and not live. Like a desire, it is a fugitive from any act present, but still there. This body, sinks into the depths of a dream which will not wake up soon, with his bony white hand touching the hair of a girl with light eyes, and embraces between these whole being. The moon was never so clear to him when she cried. The days were never as comfortable when she screamed. And the girl, at the arrogance of this being, did not feel able to deny the stay. And so was her life, for years, for days of unrest, cold nights, women screaming in the corner, doors that do not open, and babies without shelter. This girl clung to the body with the right hand, and he, with no other choice than his cruel fate, dug its claws of an invisible color on her skin. The girl, soul designed to cover books and strings tuned, mind as fast as the feet of a dancer, was under his cloak.
The girl became an adult, and was at all sure. Her curlers play at every step, and her eyes only address those who know have the need to look. And so it was, when the being hugged her legs every night, and she stroked her hand with the softness of his neck, when she looked at something else. Clock struck midnight, and felt a chill on her shoulders, white like porcelain, and turned. She never felt more grip than even the grip on his arms, but left no mark. The Being had altered, she just stared. Her lips parted and observe, that spectrum, dim light, she was sure, not to recognize, but to accept it. That spectrum stroked her curls, and took her hand. She did not understand, but did not want to understand. And at his back, the being appeared, someone who fears nothing and everything snatches. The spectrum noticed, but declined to comment, knew who he was and did not need to check. The being indignantly whispered in the ear of the lady, and she pursed her lips. She knew who was his confidant, and to the experience and novelty, she sought his logic between questions. But the hand was so soft, and his eyes so deep, could see his reflection, and for the first time, felt puzzled. The spectrum, knowing this, pulled the skin between his force was not much, he went at a leisurely pace, with her own permission.
The night was starry, were white like the hands of the being and the smile of that lady, she was white as the dim light could reflect that ghost, and walked. They spent days, months, until she felt the softness of living in comfort with something that was not the whispers of his being, but of her own voice. The specter nodded, she showed her knowledge and value. She was pleased, because she was heard. That spectrum appeared only at night, but she kept walking until he came back. And so was her life. A few days before she notice, the being had risen before her. It sounded like the rattle of a broken silence means it were, and she glanced, because he was always relevant and necessary for her to see. She felt the claws, the cold metal on his breath, and oxidation of his soul again. She was sure of his words, because he grew up with her. The stars had turned crimson color to shades in her own skin, could see the reflection of the water become a reflector death, mourn children could see blood, could see the bombs falling and screaming increase. The being smiled. They were at home. Home sweet home sweet home and creepy how I thought you were gone? She cried when her voice as sandpaper, approached his ear behind her curls, and nodded. The terror could never be as big as he was, nobody was compared to him, no one else knew her so deeply. She came to the contour of the bridge which had been used to walking, and looked into the dark water invite her to swim. And as the being had indicated, she removed her shoes and swung at that impulsivity contour. The stars were never so red. The moon was still dark, and that being with power-hungry, was preparing to give the final push. There, in the dark, appeared the spectrum, at the same time, but with a scenario which horrified his senses. Desperately, he tried to come between her back and the being. But as it was, a ghost without more, does not delayed that act, and she closed her eyes. The impact was not greater than anything she had heard before, and the spectrum, not knowing what to do, rushed after her. He could feel the jump into a tailspin, like a wounded bird, gravity almost made him feel a tangible body, but she fell without sound, without warning, and he realized. It was not the first time. So, without much effort, he clung to her ribs, and she was frightened. She had anger, and helplessness, she just wanted to be alone, and her tears fell again upward, as were the laws before the fall. The spectrum dried them, and if she was so sure, as always, he would fall to her side. There was silence, and there was nostalgia. Will those months between steps would sink with them? Has he ever felt so helpless before failing to feel? The second rang.
She awoke, between sheets and pillows, she fell silent. She could hear the screams, she could feel their different reality. She could feel that he had lived in that dream. But the being still dreamed and his dream was to see her, guide her, the only one who had the right. This lady, with blue eyes as the sea that ever felt sure, could see the light go against the window and hit the corner. She recalled, among her last thought of that nightmare, one request. She no longer felt the being at that time. She doesn't saw the spectrum because it was not the time. But she was certain: Never missed seeing his reflection before the light of those white stars. And so she fell in a dream until the next awakening.
