Walk The World

For the 'Afterlife' Competition.

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1. Walk The World

I walk alone. I am forever alone, now. This life is a new one, a life I will eventually get used too. My body is cold, will always be cold. The clothes I wear will be the clothes I will wear for eternity. It sounds rather depressing in a dramatic way when I say it like that. Not that I speak much. What is there to speak about when all I can do is walk? Walk until my feet ache, and my non-existent heart yearns for a rest.

That's right. My heart doesn't beat. Here I am, walking a world I do not belong in, with a heart that does not glow the humanly glow I can see miles and miles away. The living are so close, yet so far. They do not have the same life I live. They live a life with food, friends, social lives, electronics. I had that once, you know. Never again.

I stop here. The cliff where I spend most of my time. I died here. The place I was finally put to rest. Not that I rest that much. The only time I do rest is when I sit here, at the edge of the almost-constantly stormy and rough sea. I wonder if it is because I am here, the "dead". But that's all I am, right? Dead.

The place where my heart used to be aches, now, as I try to think back to the life I had before. The life where I had a good social circle. I hear them, sometimes, the humans, calling my name, asking for me. Why would they want me now? I am gone, and I always will be. We may meet again, one day, but up until then, all I can do, and all I ever will do, is wait.

 

My hair is a faded grey colour, not the beautiful blonde silk it used to be. I could hang it back into a ponytail, and swish it about as if I didn't have a single care in the world. But of course I did. I wouldn't have driven myself to death if it hadn't been for the problems. So many of them. Death, as I have learnt, does not solve them. The problems do not fade as easily as my hair does. They linger, still, reminding me that the moment I jumped, was the final moment I had to solve those problems, to run them away before they maddened me. What is there to do now? All I can do is watch, and pray, that someone, anyone, can find me. The living are too far out of range. Since my death, this cliff has been taped off. Not a single living soul has passed this cliff since my 'tragedy'.

Is it really something to get worked up about? I can hear my mother, now, as I speak, cursing herself, and the world, for my loss. She is slammed something, most probably anything, down on the counter, her voice echoing around the now empty house.

'Why?' she asks herself, 'Why me, Lord? What have I done to deserve this?' Her prayers end in sobs, sobs so loud and heart-wrenching I have to tune out. I have came to realisation that it was not just myself I hurt. It was also my family and friends, too. My lover, Luke Corsite, is also upset. I do not hear anything from him, at the moment, as I try to tune in. It is not working. He does not want me to listen to him. I know why. He blames this on himself. He believes it was he who pushed me to death. I know, and hopefully he has realised, that it was not ourselves, but the people around me, the people who did not understand, and now, never will.

The feeling of being alone has arrived once again. I am alone, here, on the cliff. The wind blows as strong as it can into my ears, but I find the strength to hold back, to stay here, to remember the good times we had up here, on White Falls To Death. A convenient name. Especially for me.

A smile, the first in ages, falls across my lips. I can feel my dry mouth crack, and a small trickle of blood run down my lips and fall onto my chin. I wipe it away with my pale hand, and as soon as I touch the blood, it soaks back through my fingers. The smile fades. I feel the corners of my lips twitch. Everything, here, in the "after life" is miserable. It is not a joke, and it always ends in blood.

 

I look down at my clothes. A shaded black tee with some bands' logo on it. Jeans with "Death" written all over them. Is it right to believe the blood they are coated in deserves to be there? Was it right for me to die in clothes I no longer care for? Looking back from the clothes to the grey, storm-like sky, I can feel something in my body vibrate. Sound vibrations. I close my ears to all other sounds, and focus only on the beating. It is not my heart, that's for sure. But if it's not my heart, what is it?

A noise, around me, erupts. As noisily as a jet, yet as gentle as guitar. All I can do is listen, and wait. I mean, that's all I have to do. Wait.

The noise, stops. It is so sudden, I feel myself jump and pull myself up and off the ground. A familiar face, lined with hatred, stares back at me. We don't speak. We don't have to. Our eyes can read each others. I study the figure as hard as I can, and with as much mental energy as I can. My message is delivered. It's like texting somebody, but through the eyes. No words are exchanged. Not from our mouths, anyway.

Then, when I least expect it, the girl, Alice Wasbee, speaks, her mouth redder then red. She smiles through her voice, but shows no emotion through her pretty face. Not that I should be complimenting her. She was the one who left me with "THE CHOICE". I'll leave it to you to figure out what.

'So, Rachelle, we meet again.'

She folds her arms across her chest, and turns her head to the side, as if the tree close-by is more interesting then myself. The beating heart I expect from her is not glowing. This means she is now somebody I am. A Lone Walker, I like to refer to. Or, maybe, World-Walker. That one is used rarely.

'Yes, Alice, we do. It has been pleasant, you know, sitting her, wondering why I committed something I could have avoided. Why are you here? Wait, don't tell me, death by make-up. You literally plastered yourself to death.'

She rolls her eyes, even thought she can't meet my gaze. Why she was dead was all I need to know. Why was she here, in front of me? She was the one who pushed me to death. I should be saying something, anything, to rid her!

'So, Alice, why you dead?'

The words fell out of my mouth. I could not have held them back. She could tell the words were dripping with eagerness.

'What is it to you? My death was sudden. It could not have been helped. Why don't you guess and come back to me when your finished?'

I look her up and down with beady eyes. If she died elsewhere, why had she landed here, in front of me? Death, I was beginning to realise, was not something I should have stumbled into. I thought I had everything figured out. But, obviously, more problems piled onto other problems.

 

 

A Definition Of Death In Rachelle's Eyes - Something to complicated to begin with. Avoid it, and it will avoid you.

A Definition Of Death In Alice's Eyes - Something I could have done without. Ryan Gold was about to ask me out!

 

Thoughts are running through my mind now, as I think hard. I don't really want to think. I want to rest, to wake up, and for Alice to have disappeared. Not that she will, my mind taunts. I open my eyes, only to find Alice gone. Just the plains of the cliff spread out wide in front of me. I let free of a sigh, the cool air of my no longer warm breath slipping through my lips and escaping into the muggy air.

I watch now, keeping my eyes out for any sign of Alice. I am certain to myself, that she will not return. We are not the best of friends. We are not even friends. Now would be the time to walk, to get away. But what is the risk of running into Alice once again? The idea of speaking, or even spotting her, makes me want to throw up. I can feel something, the vibrations, stop. Does this mean Alice has parted?

I try to drop the thoughts, but I can't. They just jump back into my mind. I want to run, now, anywhere. But all I can do, is walk. Because I am a World Walker. I will forever walk the world. Alone, or in the hands of a lover. Death is something I will live in. Forever.

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