Ok this is my second work ever, I've tried experimenting with the first person. Please read and review, whether you like it or not, I can always use improvements =] Thanx. Enjoy!

I wake on a filthy mattress in some hovel in the shadow of morning. My eyes reluctantly open, immediately weary of the world.

A bright green eye stares back in shock and I freeze, until I realise it's a broken shard of mirror, mocking me.

I sit up, ash black hair shifting uncomfortably on my head. The cracked mirror on the floor throws a pale, frightened girl's likeness back at me. It's not me. It's not who I used to be. My own mother wouldn't recognise me anymore.

Standing, I find my way to the tattered rucksack with my few, final belongings living inside. After rummaging around I find the rest of my clothes from last night, and the night before. I tug them on with revulsion, having to hold the wall as a sway passes over me.

I try to hold back tears as I look around at where I've wound up. Bodies of drug addicts adorn the raw stone floor, some sleeping, others even further from consciousness. One is motionless, the reason why I came here in the first place. I have to step over him as I go.

The bungalow lets me leave with a sigh. I don't look at my brethren, the only people who never ask questions. My emotions are cold to them, cold to everyone. The golden spark of life in each of them just makes me think of their fates. It's easier to block them out.

I stumble in this wretched thought and knock into someone, who brushes me aside with a sneer. I instantly forget them in my haze of thoughts.

The day is bright but I feel part of my soul in the other place. Pitch black rain falls all around me; washing away the life of the people in the street. They can't see the rain, can't see their lives ebbing away in its flows. It touches them all, but not me.

No, I feel the cold finger of death running down my spine in an almost caressing way. He can feel me, but cannot take me, not again...

The man in front doesn't notice me following. He moves down the street with a careless saunter, and why wouldn't he? He's very young; a briefcase is clasped firmly in his hand, a symbol of his new adulthood. His soul shows clear through him, it's bone white with a blue fringe. That fringe was shrinking rapidly and when it was all gone, he'd die. The invisible rain above his head seems to beat down on him more fiercely than anyone else around.

Looking up, a noise drags me from my focus. A car comes screeching around a nearby corner, followed shortly by a police van. The car is a belching monster of a truck and the driver behind the wheel looks panicked as he tries desperately to hold onto it.

I smile, sickening myself.

The driver finally loses complete control and the car veers onto our side of the street, slamming like a dart into my target. A sickening crunch permeates the air.

It pins him to the wall of a nearby building, his upper half lying on the dented bonnet. Through smoke and dust his face shows more confusion than anything else. He looks around frantically.

The blue fringe becomes white.

The man looks even more confused as he feels the rain on his face.

And he dies.

I come to myself in a crowd of onlookers, but only I can see what's really happening. As the man's eyes flutter closed a black ball floats above his head, oblivious to the rain. Then a chill wind appears from nowhere and the ball is gone. It's over.

I should give up this obsession; watching people die only makes me feel worse. But I can't imagine doing anything else. Life is empty, nothing matters anymore.

My stomach growls, reminding me that there is something that still matters. I stop off at a cafe, finding a few coins for a coffee. Looking around the shop I spy a woman whose bright hopeful face contrasts with her nearly white aura with only a thread of pale green running through it. She's my next target. But there's no hurry.

The cup is warm in my hands and I drift off momentarily...

The world is grey and alone. I'm standing in a field, empty save for myself. My footsteps behind me are carved in dust. The wind tugs at my hair, tangling in my face. I brush a few wisps aside that once would have been golden blonde, and keep walking.

The rain isn't here, even if it was I wouldn't feel it. This place is devoid of feeling. Nothing, not the ground beneath my feet or the wind in my face makes an impression. There's no memory behind my eyes and I just have to place foot in front of foot...

My memories collapse at the sensation of coffee burning me and realise I've torn the cup between my clenched fingers. Savouring the feeling I wipe it away with a serviette. My hands are a bright pink now, but I ignore them as I turn back.

The woman is gone. That in itself doesn't bother me. What does bother me is the man sitting in her vacated seat.

The rain, present even indoors doesn't touch him. He's sat awkwardly on his hands but his eyes, trained on me, radiate confidence. Aside from that their grey depths seem lifeless. His dark, neatly trimmed hair makes him seem formal and angled.

Then I notice the other emotion circling his eyes. Curiosity. I know my own must be nearly identical and I smother a laugh as we rise together.

Regardless of people watching we stand in the middle of the shop, watching each other. My mind reels. I don't remember how I came back from death, but I'd never even considered another would have been able to. Images of groups of individuals, survivors, flood through my brain, but as I keep looking at the man I realise I don't need more.

He crosses the room to me and raises a hand in front of him. I eagerly press my palm to his. His skin feels like old paper, rough and likely to crumble, but I swim in the feeling, closing my eyes.

His hand closes on mine and pulls me along. I gladly follow, leaving my rucksack on the floor and we walk out of the shop into a refreshing breeze. I feel a heart I'd thought long since dead stir into excitement as we walk. Only silence passes between us but I can feel his joy. We may be the most impossible pair in the world, but we walk proud.

I can almost see life as it was again, my weary eyes pick out new details, a mannequin dressed in pleasant cascades of red, the children passing the other way, souls in full colour.

As we pass a large department store a tall, well kept man steps out and walks behind us. I notice him because of his fine black suit and shiny leather shoes making an audible 'clomp' just behind us.

My companion squeezes my hand and I look up at him. He stares back with something akin to adoration and I feel truly happy.


The man in the suit watched the dark couple walking. He even smiled as the first drops of rain touched them. They didn't notice and died hand in hand. He stood still as the two black orbs whirling around each other disappeared.

He was a charitable man after all, and felt joy stir his bones at uniting the couple. Even if it took death to do it.

Well you've read it now =] This is actually meant to go with my other story on here, Eden because they use similar ideas and together with my final work Heaven, which I'll upload soon, they're meant to be a collection of works in a similar style to explore three different ideas. Hope you liked it. I'd love if you went just that little bit further and reviewed my story.