Disclaimer: Consider it disclaimed.

Half of Two

The ghost wrapped around a candle flame and chilled it with his breath. It wove and wavered to and fro; he caged it in his hands. Those fingers were like iron bars, thin and mighty but so still. Still. He was still.

His body curled and lips drew taught—the match was in his mouth. No fire there, though scalding tongue might heal his voice anew. Yet if first try had burned it out then twice would kill him sure. A man can only die so much before...

Reflecting in his eyes, a creature danced upon the tallow. She laughed and twirled (the lovely girl!), chattered on in blind delight. He recalled those days of memory, forgot to live fearing she'd flee. Trapped here, both bound and buried, they'd be dead immortally.

But when the sound of sizzling sick left him in dark alone…Christine remained, alive and free. An exhale blew her quite awry. Alive, alive, alive. To weep, to smile and to sing, seeing sights unheard before. To taste the sunlight, swallow rain while past slowly became. To mourn skin turning ash while still so well and whole. Whole. He hadn't touched her, no—she'd kissed him on the mouth. He was alive and sorely pained, but just the same. Alive. Alive. Alive.