pocket aces

There is no sound, no light, and no emotions where the dead Meadow is. Darkness surrounds her but there is no fear of the dark or sadness at being dead. It simply… is. She floats in an endless abyss of peace as the earthen woman finally at rest. There is no body and no thoughts to intrude on her slumber. She is completely unaware yet, at times, she feels a small brush of something against her sleeping mind. This is her existence now and she slowly begins to forget until she no longer remembers a time before this.

She floats in this abyss, content to just be; however, the gods have other plans for her. Awareness slow filters into her mind and the slumbering Meadow begins to stir. It comes slowly but, when she opens her eyes, the dead wolf finds a world of color that steals her breath away. But wait, she is dead. Memories assault her like thousands of small needles, tearing into her mind and pulling her awareness in every direction. There are no emotions that follow them and she allows the ocean of memories to wash over her like a wave.

A flicker of movement catches her eye and Meadow’s emerald gaze falls upon a big, brown and white pup. Ah, children. They are special and meant to be protected. Softly, so as not to alarm the boy, she calls out, “Hello there little one.” No reaction, not even a flick of his ear. Frowning, she steps forward and notices the way her paw seems to shimmer in and out of existence. Oh right, she is dead.

Padding over to watch what the large pup is doing, she spies a cluster of mangrove leaves near him. Curious, Meadow gently blows on the pile and watches them swirl and rustle from her ethereal breath. A knowing smile spreads across her ghostly lips as she looks to the boy.



"Meadow Lark"

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