The Other Side | Short Story

8

Breathing hurts. I don't want to be conscious. I feel peeled raw.

But birds are chirping and goats are bleating, and it's loud, far too loud, so despite the sting and the burn, I open my eyes.

Dusk is nearing. The sky is lavender and gold. Next to me, the horse is chewing grass, and when it notices I am awake, it turns its head to sniff my cheek. I turn away and grunt, because being touched at all hurts.

Ah. The tower. It is in ruins. 

Its structure is torn open by jagged craters from where the rooms have fallen. The rooms must have plummeted like stars. I can count the many floors of the tower, visible now without its outer skin of plaster and stone. I can see the remains of the dark furnace, crumpled and sad beneath the rubble.

Someone steps near me. I look up, and see the girl.

She's here, on my side. But somehow she still looks like a girl. How? How is that possible? She notices that I am awake, and bends down and brushes back my hair, and I thought being touched at all hurts, but it doesn't.

It's gentle. She's gentle.

And then she smiles.

When she opens her mouth, she calls me Blue.