Bring Her to Life

By Andrea Miccaver

The February 2007 OWG challenge in which the prompt was the song Bring Me To Life by Evanescence.

What is she thinking, this lost soul? She has been here for so long, even she wouldn't be able to tell you. At one time, her dearest wish had been escape, now she no longer knows what the word means. Light and darkness. Salty and sweet. She can't tell the difference between them anymore. Everything has become one. Gray. Bland. Numb.

It doesn't take much to strip the soul of all that gives it life. Put it in a place where it can't restock on soul fuel--emotion, sensory input . . . Amazing how quickly that soul will shrivel. It's the same as people trying to lose weight by not eating. Except why would you ever want to lose your soul? Silly people.

She's looking up. Why, I do believe she can feel me. Sense me anyway. How else would she know that there is an up? Finally I have a chance to reach her! What if I give the girl a flower? A rose, tender and new in it's youth. This flower is the first thing she has seen in such a long time that her instinct is to flee. She can't flee though. We're inside her, the flower and I. A part of her. She didn't want me anymore, you see? She didn't want to feel pain. If you can't feel pain, you can't feel pleasure. You can't feel anything soon enough. If you can't feel, than you can't see beauty. Can't hear terror. It builds up until everything is gone and you are nothing. My poor poor child.

I'm not just a voyeur, I have a stake in her soul. I'm her angel. Although angel may be the wrong word. Angel implies good. I am no more good than yourself. Just another person. Another soul. Her soul. But this child of mine has ruined herself. Destroyed herself as only one with free will can.

Now that I have her attention I gently call her name. She has been in this nothingness for so long . . . Is it too late? I don't believe so. I can make her blood run with heat once more, I'm almost sure of it. I need help from her though. Something to reach towards.

Outside of this nothingness I feel it. A flutter against a barrier I have no control of. If only my child will open, all is there for her to see. Life! It's there.

She reaches out for the flower and what being I have shudders with the glory of it. The pleasure of a flower. She's waking . . . She's reaching . . . It's happening at last!

Objects and sound enter her realm of numbness. Everything looks beautiful--even things too horrible to look at. Everything is beautiful because it is there.

We're so close to being one again, my child and her soul. So close. Something blocks the completion though. Something stands in our way. Is she still struggling? The answer I see soon enough. Oh my dear one. Don't do this to yourself! Yes there will be pain, but it will be worth it. Live.

She doesn't trust that this new happiness will last. Of course it won't last. That is its nature. If you were happy all of the time, happiness would soon seem as bland as nothing.

That flutter is repeated. A calling. Finally I remember what it is. Another soul. It's calling for a meeting of sorts. Our dear ones meet and as our people's eyes connect, this soul and I reach an agreement. To grow, we'll share. Exchange a piece of the self to gain that missing piece.

Our people are still in that bliss, but they get to know fear. For a time, they battle their fear to gain that joy of love. That's how it should be. As I said though, no happiness is made to last. What they needed they got. It's enough.

Let him go now, my darling one. The rest of the world awaits. Let go. You have all you need inside of you now.

You are alive.