Status: Thanks to everyone who read this! It's my first completed story on Mibba and I hope you all enjoyed it!
I Am Here
Free
They say you see your life flash before your eyes in the moments before death.
I didn’t. I saw the way I really died.
It was a long time ago. During the coldest winter recorded in our city. White flakes pummelled from the sky, drenching the streets in thick white sheets. The city was empty. As lifeless as it had ever been, but if you searched the shadows, you could see movement. The flickering heartbeat of life as young child sought shelter from the cold.
I remembered it now. I remembered my fingers were numb, seeking warmth in the cotton of my dirty white dress. Ice crusted my hair, flakes of snow sending shivers through my body. I was cold. Colder than I had ever been before. My tears froze as they ran down my cheeks, my body no longer able to hold enough heat to melt the flakes that slept on my skin.
Daring to move, I shivered out of the darkness, silently stumbling through the thick snow to the curb of the road. My body was weak. My limbs were frozen, aching as I forced them to bend, clutching at myself as if to hold myself together. As if I were an ice sculpture about to shatter. My muscles were worn, unable to hold my strength any longer and so the curb was where I stayed.
The snow was wet against my cheek as I lay frozen and waiting. Hoping that the snow would stop falling. That the sun would come out and melt the cold white ice. I was alone and afraid. My mama had died a year ago, and my aunt had refused to take me in so I was left on the streets to starve. I couldn’t blame her though. I wouldn’t want me either.
But as I waited, I realised I wasn’t as alone as I’d thought. Street lights flickered along the snow filled street, store fronts blinked to life. Ghosts of people solidified, surrounding me in such a mass that I wondered how I hadn’t seen them before. I was not alone. The city was full. Full of laughter and life.
My plea for help whispered with the wind in desperation. Begging anyone to help the child on the side of the road. To provide warmth and shelter and food. I begged to be heard. It was in vain. I was invisible. Nobody heard my cries. Nobody looked my way.
Nobody noticed the small child who was lying frozen on the curb. They were too selfish and proud to see past their own lives. The heavens cried for the child, blanketing the girl with its white tears. I was alone. I was invisible. And I was cold. I was always cold.
Nobody noticed my body as it lay lifeless beneath a layer of snow. I went to sleep alone and awoke alone. I’d never known the difference.
My death flashed before my eyes in the moments of impact. A dark shadow loomed over Leigh’s car, too close to avoid the inevitable. But I was already dead. I couldn’t die again. So I did what I could. I turned to my only friend and I lunged.
I’d hoped to protect him. To use whatever I could to shield my Leigh from the truck that threatened his safety. I was dead, but I could touch him. Surely I could protect him as well. It was too much to hope.
Leigh had turned to me already, his eyes filled with such worry and fear, but mostly with determination. I could only look on in horror as Leigh wrapped my cold dead spirited body in his arms, folding me neatly into his embrace and awaited the collision. His lips were pressed against mine. The last feeling he would ever have.
***
I was floating. Floating in a world of white, but I was not alone.
I should have known that I was dead. I should have read the signs, but what signs were there? I didn’t eat because I had no money. I wasn’t seen because I was not loved. I grew older because it was the way of life.
It all made sense to me now. In this world of white, I knew all that I needed to.
I could be seen by those who were dying. Those who could see death. Leigh’s mum, the drunken man, the patients at the hospital. Leigh.
I had waited. For the one thing that would truly make me happy. I had grown older because everything on earth does. I had waited unknowingly for Leigh and somehow he had waited for me.
I was not alone.
On one hand was my mama. On the other was Leigh. And we waited together, for the doors of the white world to open.
I didn’t. I saw the way I really died.
It was a long time ago. During the coldest winter recorded in our city. White flakes pummelled from the sky, drenching the streets in thick white sheets. The city was empty. As lifeless as it had ever been, but if you searched the shadows, you could see movement. The flickering heartbeat of life as young child sought shelter from the cold.
I remembered it now. I remembered my fingers were numb, seeking warmth in the cotton of my dirty white dress. Ice crusted my hair, flakes of snow sending shivers through my body. I was cold. Colder than I had ever been before. My tears froze as they ran down my cheeks, my body no longer able to hold enough heat to melt the flakes that slept on my skin.
Daring to move, I shivered out of the darkness, silently stumbling through the thick snow to the curb of the road. My body was weak. My limbs were frozen, aching as I forced them to bend, clutching at myself as if to hold myself together. As if I were an ice sculpture about to shatter. My muscles were worn, unable to hold my strength any longer and so the curb was where I stayed.
The snow was wet against my cheek as I lay frozen and waiting. Hoping that the snow would stop falling. That the sun would come out and melt the cold white ice. I was alone and afraid. My mama had died a year ago, and my aunt had refused to take me in so I was left on the streets to starve. I couldn’t blame her though. I wouldn’t want me either.
But as I waited, I realised I wasn’t as alone as I’d thought. Street lights flickered along the snow filled street, store fronts blinked to life. Ghosts of people solidified, surrounding me in such a mass that I wondered how I hadn’t seen them before. I was not alone. The city was full. Full of laughter and life.
My plea for help whispered with the wind in desperation. Begging anyone to help the child on the side of the road. To provide warmth and shelter and food. I begged to be heard. It was in vain. I was invisible. Nobody heard my cries. Nobody looked my way.
Nobody noticed the small child who was lying frozen on the curb. They were too selfish and proud to see past their own lives. The heavens cried for the child, blanketing the girl with its white tears. I was alone. I was invisible. And I was cold. I was always cold.
Nobody noticed my body as it lay lifeless beneath a layer of snow. I went to sleep alone and awoke alone. I’d never known the difference.
My death flashed before my eyes in the moments of impact. A dark shadow loomed over Leigh’s car, too close to avoid the inevitable. But I was already dead. I couldn’t die again. So I did what I could. I turned to my only friend and I lunged.
I’d hoped to protect him. To use whatever I could to shield my Leigh from the truck that threatened his safety. I was dead, but I could touch him. Surely I could protect him as well. It was too much to hope.
Leigh had turned to me already, his eyes filled with such worry and fear, but mostly with determination. I could only look on in horror as Leigh wrapped my cold dead spirited body in his arms, folding me neatly into his embrace and awaited the collision. His lips were pressed against mine. The last feeling he would ever have.
***
I was floating. Floating in a world of white, but I was not alone.
I should have known that I was dead. I should have read the signs, but what signs were there? I didn’t eat because I had no money. I wasn’t seen because I was not loved. I grew older because it was the way of life.
It all made sense to me now. In this world of white, I knew all that I needed to.
I could be seen by those who were dying. Those who could see death. Leigh’s mum, the drunken man, the patients at the hospital. Leigh.
I had waited. For the one thing that would truly make me happy. I had grown older because everything on earth does. I had waited unknowingly for Leigh and somehow he had waited for me.
I was not alone.
On one hand was my mama. On the other was Leigh. And we waited together, for the doors of the white world to open.
♠ ♠ ♠
Leigh is based on a friend I had who passed too early for his time. He hadn't yet turned 21, his eyes were always an excited blue and he had soft blonde hair that curled at the ends.I remember seeing him the night he died, his blob of blonde hair was the last thing I saw after his little wave as he walked out of my house with my sister.
I barely said a goodbye. I simply said ‘later’, the way I always did and went back to whatever stupid meaningless show I was watching.
That night, my sister and Leigh got into a car accident. He’d fallen asleep at the wheel only a few minutes before reaching their home. He died instantly, and my sister miraculously survived. Her surviving should have been impossible. The car had been so completely destroyed that they had to break her out of it. She was found on the floor of the front passenger seat, curled up into the fetal position.
I like to think Leigh’s arms were wrapped around her for the very last time, protecting her the way I always knew he would.
I only wish I had given him a better goodbye.