Dead Man Messing with My Head

It was midday by the time she made it, and she looked like a mess of a thing. At some point, she had kicked off her shoes. Dropped her stuffy coat. Pulled her hair from its bounds. Her heart felt as though it was about to leap from her chest, clawing at her throat with tight lungs and heavy shoulders. She didn’t know why she had stormed out of the lunch with her parents and guests. They were all having such a good time, but then she just…

Anxiety.

It ruled her life, now. She didn’t remember being such a flighty child, paranoid and scared. But now, a simple clinck of a fork against a plate at the right time was enough to make her lose her mind. Not only that, but she had stumbled out in front of guests! They certainly thought strange of her now, and her mother would have a word or two or ten when she returned.

But when her bare feet stepped from the dirt road to the soft grass, she knew she could let that all go. It was a perfect place, really. A lone tree hung overhead, large and proud in its singularity. It drank from a small stream that trickled through, white stones shimmering beneath its waters. If she looked up, away from where she had come, she would see where a storm had washed out some of the ground many years ago, but the thick roots of the tree made a bridge.

It was a bridge that held many memories for her, and even looking at it brought back the sound of laughs and splashing water. Of throwing rocks into the tree to see where it would bounce to. Of him, specifically, always brighter than the sun.

But these days, when she came, she stood by the tree with Farrah at her side, the only sound being the babbling of the brook, and the flutter of the canine’s wings at her side. No laughs. No splashing. No crashing leaves. No him.

She was expecting this time to be no different, heartbreakingly so. But as the tree came into view, and then the stream, and then the bridge; there was… someone else kneeling by the river. She found her stride shortening, her muscles tensing, her familiar bristling at her side. No one came here; at least not that she’d seen. Her hand slipped to the knife so easily hidden in the folds of her crimson skirt, wrapping around its handle as she ducked behind the tree.

Slowly peeking out from behind the bark, she studied the figure at the stream. There was something terribly… familiar about them. Their build, their stance, even their copper hair. And as they stood and turned, she couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping her lips as the knife slipped from her hand and fell to the grass behind her.

It couldn’t be, her mind spun, her blood running cold, as she stared up at the man before her. She almost didn’t notice the plants sprouting from seeds in his palm.

“Talaus?” Her voice came out as a strangled whisper. A rush of different emotions washed over her, making her dizzy with a tightening throat and shaking hands. Happy? No, concerned? A little. But fear was the winner, as she took a step back and narrowly missed the blade she had dropped.

He was supposed to be dead.