She opened her eyes. Didn't know that would happen again.

  But it was bright.

  Horribly bright.

  No horizon. No noise. Just bright. And cold. A small, icy breeze, penentrated the tissue like clothes she had.

  There was was nowhere to hide here,

  nothing she could hide.

  But from who?

  She called out, a small prayer.

  A beg.

  But nothing came out, her throat choked up, and panic began to flow from her apparent isolation.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Was she alone?

  No.

  If only.

  Her initial frenzy calmed, and she felt the scratches at her back, pervasive stares cutting into her.

  Again she cried for the devine. But it was already there.

  It listened.

  And it laughed.

  Like a child poking a critter in the mud, it squeeled with joy and disgust.

  There was no grace for its toys.

  She wished to close her eyes again.

  For the warm darkness she'd come from.

  Where she thought she'd be forever.

  There was no rest here.

  --

  Her clothes tattered, void in her eyes, she sat, waiting.

  And then he appeared.

  The same tissue like clothes.

  The same confusion and intrigue in his face.

  She howled at him, reaching for him to see her.

  He could not.

  Again the noise left her voice, her hands passing through him.

  She could hear him though.

  Hear his calls, his prayers, his questions, his very thoughts.

  There nowhere he could hide.

  Nothing he could hide,

  that she could not see.

  And he screamed. And sobbed.

  She fell back,

  and stared.