Turn the music on and start reading. Listen to the music all the way through, even if you finish the story first.
Your eyes are closing in sleep, and I am crying. I don’t know why; I feel no pain. I feel triumph. The scars marking my skin glisten in the fading sunlight. The trees above us link their arms, sheltering us.
I can hear the crying of sea birds in the distance. The eagle is sweeping its wings above us in broad, deep strokes. Water in the stream nearby is chuckling a quiet lullaby. The wind lifts my hair off my forehead, and I can smell salt air upon it.
Your lashes are dark as ink, sweeping your cheeks. Your smile is tired, but it still makes me want to smile down at you.
I wonder what you are dreaming of.
The world around us is merging with something else, something bright. The trees of another forest rise higher than ever, yet I can see over them. You are waking up. You sit up and stare into the light. The sky is bluer than I have ever seen it. The wind, which was gentle, is now strong and proud, sweeping the branches of the trees overhead into a merry verdant dance.
I can see the sea, and smell it, and the light is getting brighter, yet I can somehow stand it. Our clothes are changing, clean and white and silver where they were red and wet and brown and grubby. I pull you to your feet and we hold hands, staring together toward the horizon. The light is coming, but it can’t be soon enough.
You are pulling me, or I am pulling you, and we are running, laughing, crying, ‘Come, Come, Come!’
I am half afraid that this is a dream.
But then I know it is not. The light comes ever closer, and I run faster than I ever have. It would hurt to run like this, in the old world. Now it is overwhelmingly wonderful, a pounding in my chest and a gasping which does not hurt.
Then the light is all around us, and we see nothing but a waterfall of the sea, a far green country under a swift sunrise.
I keep writing things like this when I should be working on something else.
Oh well. God bless you all, and have a wonderful day.