I thought I was fine the way I was, I fooled myself in believing I was content. I pushed myself to be the perfect child. My parents had me later in life, I was an only child. I was pushed to be perfect. I was the perky blonde cheerleader, dated the quarterback, had straight A’s and was on all the committees. Then one day it all changed.
I had been traveling to school when I almost hit some Gothicgothic punk. I, of course, screamed out the window at him. He was making me late. He mumbled something I didn’t hear, and I went along my way. But I thought of him later. There was something in his eyes. They were the color of the blood moon, and his lips were so blue. There were cracks along his face as if he was wearing a worn mask, one that needed to come off. I found myself distracted by his image. I looked for him at the school. After all he looked to be about eighteen, as I was, so he must be in school. But I was not able to locate him.
The days went by, I grew tired and weak. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, shadows lived under my eyes, and the make-up I used barely covered it. Soon I started to know other changes, my eyes started to go from blue to the same blood orange that I saw on the boy. My parents were of course concerned and took me to the doctor but they could find nothing wrong with me. Nothing at all. Then my hair started to turn black as coal, cracks started to form in my face, and my lips started to turn a vivid blue. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe.
That is when the dreams started.
I was standing in the words, the boy I almost hit stood before me. I just looked at him, he was the same yet different. His eyes were the color of the blood moon, and his lips the most vivid blue I had ever seen, but the cracks and the shadows were gone. His skin was perfect. Pale and perfect. I remember asking him what he was, what he had done to me. He just smiled and said that I would soon be home. Before I could ask him what he meant I woke up.
This went on for weeks, months. I was getting weaker; I started to live in the shadows. I stopped caring about school, nor about being the perfect daughter. What did it matter when I was dying? I knew I was dying. What did it matter if I got in to Harvard? I no longer cared.
The dreams are what I lived for. I would just spend hours sitting with him. In silence. I stopped asking questions, he would just tell me I would soon be home. I believed him. I thought he was my angel. My angel that would take me home and stop the pain I felt in my waking moments. The pain became more and more as my skin became cracked. Soon my parents moved me to the hospital, as my muscles were showing, the skin cracked so deep. I could barely breath, barely move. Still I lived for the dreams. The dreams are what connected me to life. I didn’t want to lose them. They made my last days on Earth bearable.
But as with everything my time had come to an end. I laid in my bed, I had waited for my dream angel to come comfort me. Instead I could not sleep. The door of my room opened and the guy I almost hit the year before walked in and sat on the bed.
I just looked at him. I knew he came to take me home. He took my hand. “It is time to come home, soul keeper. It is time to learn your place in Paradise.”
“Soul keeper?” I asked as I left my body behind.
“You are a Keeper, a keeper of broken souls. Unlike other keepers we live on Earth. We mark other keepers, and keep their souls close to us until we take them home. Some will become like us, hidden in plain sight with a mask we wear. Others will go to Paradise and watch their souls from their offices on the clouds. But if you ask me we have the best jobs.”
“We get to help souls realize who they are, who they were meant to be. And we get to basically live forever. We get to watch the people of the Earth, we get to be a family. Are you ready to come home soul keeper?”
“Yes…” I took his hand and left my body behind… forever becoming a Keeper… a soul keeper…