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I remember her. Every day I remember her. Her gaze which made my heart pump, but my blood run cold. Her touch... how could someone with such cold skin make my flesh burn almost to the point of blistering?
It was three or four years ago. I was struggling to come up with money to pay the rent. My art wasn’t selling and I felt so…alone. I had no money so I couldn’t eat. I would often pass out from hunger. My art was suffering. I had no inspiration. Oh, how I prayed. But little did I know, my prayers would come true in a way I never imagined possible.
It was late at night when it happened, around 1 am. A loud sound woke me up, like the sound of wind chimes but much louder. I sat up, but couldn’t seem to get out of my bed. As if some force was forbidding it. A freezing cold fog started blowing into the room from the crack below the door. My heart sped up as some sort of apparition appeared before me.
It was a pale girl, floating about a foot above the ground. The darkness of her face only outshone by the glow of her halo.
She was beautiful, but I felt…weird…Why was she here? What did she want? Just as I had that thought, she looked directly at me, her face hidden by her long locks of brunette hair.
She moved closer. My heart slowed down, and I started having trouble breathing. She began reaching for my arm. I could feel how cold her skin was from a yard away. It was like ice, but when she grabbed my hand a severe pain ran through my body. It burned! I could feel my skin grow hot and blister as she continued to grip my hand. I struggled, but she wouldn’t let me go.
With her free hand she slowly parted her hair. And what I saw was a traumatizing image. I screamed. She had no face. No blood. No scars. Just smooth flesh. This was no angel. I don’t know what it was, but it certainly wasn’t holy. If anything it was demonic. But I just don’t know.
She leaned her head next to mine, her cold head brushing against my face. I heard her whisper. Her voice was so sweet. She whispered “Only after death can we be together again.” After that I heard her let out a chuckle. I closed my eyes tight out of fear. When I opened them, she was gone. I thought it was just a dream… but it couldn’t have been. I looked down at my arm to see the blisters she had left.
The next morning I woke up and drew her in my sketch pad. As I did that all I could do was think about what happened. But the thought that kept coming back to me…was why I can't wait to see her again.