You'd Hardly Recognize Me

The first thing to go is breath, then love, then the memory of love. The fall, the snap, then darkness and the slow erosion of the flesh. I sense you, vaguely, through the decaying wood, the dirt, the rocks, as you kneel over me on moonless nights. The tiny flicker of what I once was waits for you. Exposure of sin is worse than death, they say, but the dead know that nothing is worse than death. If one night ghostly hands twist that long black veil around your neck and pull until the breath goes, will you recognize me?

Wow, awesome drabbles all, but Ginger's gave me some of the creepiest goosebumps. Brrrr.

Man, Ginger, that's dark.

Ginger, that's fantastic! I love how dark it is.

Ginger, that's marvellous. Just...ick.

*****

I ignore the commotion in the entrance hall. I'm not good enough to answer the door, I'm told.

But your voice reaches above the hubbub, and instead of being here, with the rags and the buckets I'm back to last night, with the fancy dress and beautiful shoes, lost in the music and the strength of your hand holding mine.

The commotion sweeps in before I have a chance to disappear. My stepmother flashes me glares of dark reproach.

Your gaze holds mine. I die a thousand deaths, praying you remember last night too, never noticing the shoe you carry.

Ginger been watchin' them Buffy dvds.

Wow.

BWAH! ita did Cinderella!

Wow. Ginger's and ita's both give me chills.

Different chills, but chills nonetheless.

ita's doing Cinderella! I love it. Fairy tales are great stuff.

Damn, and this is one of those times I got nothin'. Phtooie.