beacon

originally written oct 25 2012
posted to a private writing forum between friends

Which was odd-- there usually was.
A bright ball of silver and grey, bathing the cold, unfriendly city in it's light. But tonight-- nothing.

In the end, she supposed, it didn't matter. She didn't need the light to see anyway.
There was no rock or crevasse or ledge that could disrupt her path.
She was ethereal. Not really of this Earth any longer but somehow still tied to it.

But thinking of her existence always made her heavy-hearted.

It was a peaceful night, all things considered.
She was far removed from the warring city, the only sounds the quiet chirping of the crickets and the wind rustling through the trees.
It was nights like this that she liked to pay a special someone a visit.

Anacaona smiled gently to herself, book clenched in her wispy hands, as she made her way over the landscape.
Yes. A very special someone.

The wrought-iron fence enclosing the expansive graveyard was the first thing she saw.
Then the white stone gargoyles and the cacophony of grey headstones and stone mausoleums.
And a familiar, slightly eerie light glowing somewhere in the middle.

Ana's smile grew.

She phased through the fence, past several gravestones-- stopping only briefly to whisper words of greeting and comfort to the ones she reconigzed-- and over to where the light beckoned her.

"Evening!" she called when the familiar body was in sight. The boy, one eye hidden by a shock of pale hair, looked up at her. And grinned.

"Ana! I'm so glad you're here!"

"I told you I'd keep my promise, Seishou! Look, I've brought you some new reading material," she handed him the book she'd kept clutched eagerly to her chest, unable to stop smiling. Seishou took it appreciatively and patted the seat next to him on the stoop of the masouleum. Ana took it gratefully.

Seishou opened the book to the first chapter and cleared his throat. Began reading.
Ana listened attentively, entirely at peace with this odd supernatural existence she called her life.

The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, the crickets chirped melodiously and, in their collective loneliness, everything was right with the world.