OOM: Conversations with Dead People II

[herr_bookman]

Autor finds himself floating this evening. He flails in the air, thinking he's falling, though he doesn't feel that pull on his stomach. After a while, he surrenders to it, lying on his back and putting his feet up.

A chair with broken legs sits empty in front of him, and a lighted chessboard--his side oriented to white--hovers in the air. He gasps, recognizing the set, and executes a graceful turn in the air in an attempt to get away from the zombies that he knows are coming.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

Autor smiles at that. "Yes, you are," he says, shaking his head. He holds his hands out. "Dance with me?"

[souffle_girlek]

"Can't." She gives him a look, like he's being particularly slow. "Don't have legs."

[herr_bookman]

He feels particularly slow. The boy furrows his brow. "What? What are you talking about?" he says, folding his arms. Autor glances down. "Of course you have legs. They're right there. See?"

[souffle_girlek]

"I do, but as someone once told me - they're just a lie I'm telling myself." She explains, patiently.

[herr_bookman]

"Oswin," Autor says, soft and unsure. He floats to her again and wraps her up in his embrace, smelling the sharp tang of metal.

Is it just him, or is her skin hard and cool? He wants to believe the lie, wants to smell rose oil and cloves, wants to listen for a heartbeat--which he can't hear.

He's parched, so he draws a breath through his nose. "I still love you. No matter what form you take."

[souffle_girlek]

There's a clank, metal on metal, and the rattle of heavy chains.

AND. I. LOVE YOU. AU-TOR.

Someone had taken the time to strip the rose that's now in his hands of all its thorns.

[herr_bookman]

And he's left gasping when she disappears, only to roll out of bed and wake when he hits the floor.