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Her hand came through the smoke and distant depths. Flesh colored blue in the moon scented air; distinct shades between her fingers inky depths. White-like strands of fine hair along the back of her arm, glowing is if from their own accord. And all was silent until two fingernails clicked against the cool dry surface of my porcelain teeth.

Eyes flashed open, a world of silk smoke, and eloquent drafts of air appeared. I did not know from where she came. A finger pressed lightly against the corner of my lips, and a whispering voice from all around yet not so far said, "You are alive."

You are alive.

Purple irises sliding slowly closed, fluctuating liquidly as the lids of my eyes shuttered my fears within.

I am alive.

Written: 2002.02.16
Copyright © 2002 Amber Halo