Take me


4. Jamie - Him!

The day I live, the day I feel the soft grass underneath my feet, the day when I can feel the cool air embrace my skin and the light of the sun glow all around me…the day I come back to life. The day I have been yearning for so many years is drawing close. I can feel it. 

Normally I would not stroll through a graveyard, weaving through every other stone and tomb, skipping along as if the ground was like a simple child's game of hops scotch. But who would see me? Of course I am dead. Well kind of. I am a living soul, trapped here on Earth. Trapped, watching humans continue on with their lives, growing old, falling in love, following their dreams – oh did I envy them. Alas, I am stuck in this limbo for the time being. Yes, for now I am stuck but not for long. You see there is a way I can get out of this trap, by taking the life of someone (preferably a man) who loves me. A man, who beholds the ability: to see me, to touch me and hear me. How grotesque! To live once again I have to kill the man that loves me, to willingly lay down their own life so that I can walk upon the Earth once more.

To be perfectly honest, I am not concerned for 'him' (if I do meet him). I for one did not deserve to die; no one does when only just progressing into being an adult. 'Eye for an eye, a life for a life' – That makes it fair doesn't it? 

That was the physiology I now 'live' by.  I swung round the corner of the church and abruptly halted at the scene of a funeral, from what looked like to be one for another teenager. I cringed in disgust. Another young life, gone. Could it have been him? The boy that died could have been the one to love me. I aggressively shook the thought out of my mind. Impossible. He would have to die, when he loved me not before. I crept up behind the priest and watching the women weep over the newly dug grave, clutching tightly to their tissues and crying at such high pitches. Did anyone cry when I had died? Did anyone notice my absence? I looked across, watching the anguish and despair in the faces of the ones that loved the dead teenager, till I reached a boy- a boy who's face did not convey the same emotions the women. 

His face solid of an emotion I could not explain, like a mixture of guilt and regret and something else I could not place. He stood in such a manner that emphasised his skinny composure, his long legs and short torso; with surprisingly well built square-like shoulders, with short brown hair longer at the front than it was at the back, glowing under the sunlight. The most noticeable feature of him was his eyes.  A soft green, hidden under a dark layer of his long eye lashes, his eyes drooped from all I could assume was because of lack of sleep. But there was something about the eyes that shocked me most, the soft yet piercing green eyes, where looking directly at me.

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