Life and Death

    The world is brighter than I can remember; I can almost feel the life that the sun is giving the world. I wonder what can I possibly offer such a breathtaking world that my eyes feast upon?
    I close the curtains and stare back at the quiet Lucas, his eyes never remove themselves from my silhouette that is now covered in shadow from me closing the curtains. His ravishing eyes reveal nothing as I think my thoughts, never once do I forget that he can hear me. He sits on my black desk chair that I had bought at a furnisher store last year. I remember the petty nature that I had shown when deciding whether one worth ten dollars more was really worth it. I had settled for the cheap one and occasionally suffered from a soar bottom. Karma strikes you in the weirdest ways. His legs are crossed and his hands, pale and immaculate, lie intertwined on his lap.
    He is the simplest form of perfection.
    Thank you, I hear the all-too familiar voice respond to my praise, but I am not anything compared to you.
    I hold back my smirk as I insistently deny his compliment. I have always thought of myself as pretty, but hearing a compliment of sorts from a man like Lucas, well, that is just unheard of.
    "So what are you--we--exactly?" I ask out loud, finding the bathroom right behind where Lucas sits uniquely intriguing.
    "We are a rare species, there are a few of us out there, but much unlike fabled stories, we do not turn mortals into one of us if we do not find any sort of connection." He explains while I start to make my way to the bathroom, the idea of hot water entices me. "If I were not in love with you Carol Ann, then you would most likely be dead right now."
    I find myself amused as I realize that he has used my entire name. "No one has called me that since--"
    "Since your mother." He answers for me and I pause with my shirt half up over my head.
    "How did you know that?"
    "I am very perceptive." He answers simply, but his answer makes no sense. "But, on the topic we were speaking of, amongst the human race there are many diff--"
    "No," I interrupt, "Tell me, what do you mean by being 'very perceptive'? What does that have to do with anything?"
    "I have been watching you for many years Carol Ann," he does not face me, but I sense his tension in his thoughts. You were so young.
    "What is my whole name and when was I born?" I ask, challenging his knowledge of me feeling more curiosity than anything else.
    He does not turn his head to face me as he answers, knowingly, "Carol Ann Taylor, but it was changed to Carol Ann Williams when you were adopted at age eleven. You were born May fifth nineteen-eighty-two and from the moment that your parents uttered their last breaths you have felt nothing but loneliness."
    I stand still, not because of how accurate his information of my life is, but because of how much I unknowingly love this mysterious man. "How do you know all of this?"
    "I am perceptive, and you are my subject of interest."
    I stand under the hot water now thinking of his words and I try to grasp at the idea that my life may be immensely different. I rub the soap bar up my arm and am unable to reach my back. Well, not everything has changed.
    The shower curtain is suddenly shoved aside and Lucas appears in its place. Embarrassment has always been a large issue in my life, but Lucas feels so natural, like the other half of my life, of my being, that I do not feel frightened to show him my deepest secrets. He grabs the soap from its location and I casually stare back at him, my chin resting on my shoulder as he washes my back.
    "Do you know," he begins, "That from the moment I saw you crying as a child, that my heart belonged to you?"
    I stare at him, quiet, not answering and he continues, "What I have made you, it will not make life easier, but it will promise new difficulties. You have to promise me something Carol Ann."
    Yes. I answer, my voice unneeded.
    "Whatever you see, hear, or learn--promise me--you will never leave my side?" He says, taking extra precaution in washing above my bottom.
    Always. I promise and let myself feel the comfort of love that is engulfing me for the first time.


    I stand, dressed and ready to leave my apartment with Lucas for the first time as something new I am still trying to grasp. My purse, which I had dropped only seconds before, lay by my feet (the sound prompting Lucas to reach my side unnaturally fast).
In front of me, looking pale and ragged, stands my father. Not my adoptive father, no, but my biological, non-breathing father. Who died sixteen years ago.
    "About that," Lucas says quickly noticing my look of terror, "We can see dead people too. Since our lives are a mixture of death and life, they can contact us, and I forgot to tell you: your parents have something they want you to know."

The End

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