Hometorius : Coming Home

chapter 19 : In Another Body

Marylin POV

Fleur brought the candle and put it on the glass counter. She began to rummage in the drawers in search of her notebook. She explained that she writes poems in it. Mostly hers, but sometimes also those created by her grandma, and even by people met on the street. I sat on Fleur's bed next to Sam and remained silent. Although it was only his soul, I didn't intend to leave him in need.

"There it is!" Fleur suddenly exclaimed, showing me a yellow notebook that didn't tell me anything. "Now we just have to find Joseph's poem."

"Do you have it all sorted together, or something?" I asked and sat down at her, because she had already sat down on the carpet.

"No," she confessed, opening the notebook and slowly scanning the pages. "I write down everything as it goes."

"So how do you find such a short rhyme?"

It was only when I asked this question that I realized that Fleur is terribly easy to annoy. I fixed my position in anticipation of her reaction.

"Rest assured, I can handle it."

Her answer surprised me to say at least. Fleur skimmed the book for a while, until she slapped one of the pages.

"Here! I found it!" She exclaimed happily and pushed the notebook under my nose.

"This?" I asked, pointing to the few lines titled "Joe."

"Yes. A bit rewritten to make it work. Read it aloud."

"To doom bound, the power unheard of is painting my heart. Very rare, very special and I don't know how. Beware the good, beware the bad, it's only myself that I can trust," I read, stunned, and looked at the candle. "We did not light a candle."

My voice sounded like Laura from the bar. Monotonous and emotionless as if what I said was obvious. Or as if I just repeated this for the umpteenth time. To the same person.

"Ah, ç'est vrai [T/N: indeed]," Fleur said and grabbed the matches. "I'm lighting it up."

She struggled for a moment to light the match. Her hands were trembling nervously. I grabbed her hands with my "bones" (it's about my hands of course) and I gently took the matches from her. I decided to do it myself and I succeeded in the first go. The candle burned with a blue flame.

"Read it again," Fleur instructed as she sneakily freed her hands from mine and now wiped them on her thighs.

I read the poem again, this time holding my hands open over the candle. I saw it in movies, I don't know if it works at all.

The fire burned for a while, until it began to grow slowly. The air bending over the candle was beginning to resemble a strange portal. I saw a faint glimmer at the end. Even though it was getting closer, it only became clearer without getting bigger. So, if we follow this logically, the light was shrinking as it was getting closer to us.

When it was close enough to touch, I noticed that it wasn't just a light. It was a blue snowflake. It landed gently on my bony hand and nothing happened. It neither melted, nor grew nor shrank. And suddenly it happened. My skin immediately absorbed it and left no trace, as if there was no snowflake on my hand to begin with. Something was happening. Something strange. I felt cold, and it should be reminded that recently my sense of feeling the temperature changes was malfunctioning.

Fleur looked at me with anxiety. She probably noticed that I was shaking. She probably wanted to embrace me to give me some warmth, but with a warning hiss I stopped her just in time. Then I stood up and slowly walked up to the bed where Sam was lying paralyzed. I looked at him and only when I saw my reflection in his absent eyes did I notice that my eyes weren't mine. I was looking at him with glowing orbits with no irises. They made me look like some strange creature from a creepypasta or something like that.