My friend and I love writing, and have been working on a book together for the past nine months...
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I never get to answer her question. She looks at me, eyes wide, and then she slumps forward. I dive for her, and catch her. Whew. If I hadn’t of caught her, she would have hit her head on a gnarled root sticking out of the ground. I turn her over, still keeping her up.
“Hello? Are you okay?” Okay, yeah, stupid question to ask. She is obviously not okay. I shake her a little, gently. She seems to be in some sort of trance, like passing out, but not wake-able. I look down at her face. And promptly freak out.
“Holy crap! She’s not breathing!” I scream. Yeah. Real smooth. Panicking, I lean forward, and give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, but I couldn’t think of what else to do!
After a second, she gasps and sits up quickly, hitting her forehead on mine.
“Were you…… just kissing me?!” she yells. She push’s me to the floor with surprising strength. She pins me down, arms trapped beneath me. I flinch.
“No! I swear! You weren’t breathing, so I tried to help you, dang it!” She unpins me slowly, and eyes me warily, like I might do it again. shaking her head, she mutters to herself, “I saw part of the memory. That’s not good. I’m not supposed to be able to see it unless Emmaline’s here!”
Tapping her shoulder, I ask, “What are you talking about? Are alright? You passed out!” She gives me a hard look, and settles herself down at the base of the tree again.
“You asked me how I could see you, but….. what about you? can you seem me? You look like you are bl.” I cut off what I was about to say. That might come out extremely offensive, to say she looks like she is blind. I mean, because, what if she isn’t? That, would be extremely embarrassing.
“Blind?” she says, a tone of dry humor tinting her voice. I nod hesitantly. “Yeah. I’m blind. Can’t see. With my eyes, though. I can still see you through my mind.” I start to nod. Wait- what?! Through her mind?
“What? Through your mind? I’m confused…..” I trail off. She looks at me, probably amused.
“You don’t want to know. Now, leave. Forget all that just happened. You didn’t ever see me, or talk to me, if you know what’s good for you.”
“Now, hold on right there!” I start. Then I hear Mom’s voice in the distance, calling my name for bed. Great. Nice timing, Mom.
“Listen to whoever is calling you. Now, go,” she orders. I hesitate.
“I don’t even know your name!” I protest. She sighs, loudly.
“You don’t need to know. I never existed.” she stands up, and push’s me towards the direction Mom’s calling. I turn back around, but she is gone.