Rainbows Kelly Kenyon Copyright 2012 Kelly Kenyon Smashwords Edition Smashwords License Statement This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Rainbows By Kelly Kenyon Her hair was always wild and untamable. It whips around her face like the tail of a horse running free in the dry, rolling hills of Wyoming. Dark auburn strands cling to the damp trail staining her cheeks gray with mascara. She tugs at the strands, untangling them from her naturally thick, black eyelashes. She never needed that thick paste she put on them. Her eyes were vibrant and beautiful without it. Her tears had been heavy raindrops, drowning her in her sorrow. I keep hoping that she will dry up having cried so much that there are no more tears left in her. Sooner or later she will have to come back up for air or she will suffocate and the world will lose yet another beautiful soul. I’ve tried consoling her. I’ve tried to show her that I’m okay but those endless tears have clouded her vision. She believes that it is all her fault. Her guilt is weighing her down. I want to tell her it’s not. She is not evil. She is not cursed. She does not deserve to be in my place. All of those things she keeps telling herself over and over again as if it’s going to make a difference. I am responsible for putting myself into this position. Had I been a little more responsible I’d still be there. We both learned a lesson here. Mine was just a little too late. They said it was immediate; I probably didn’t even wake up. Naturally that’s what they should say. No one needs to know that when my neck snapped I felt the pain, however brief it may have been. The crack was as loud in my ears as the impact. It was a sharp blinding pain followed by that tingling sensation you get when your arm or leg falls asleep. After that I really didn’t feel anything. Everything faded away into blackness. A dark swirling void of nothingness engulfed me. All the anger, all the pain, all of the emotions I had felt in the past disintegrated. Then, as quickly as the darkness crept in, there was light. A yellowish, fuzzy gold haze surrounded me filling me with a warmth I had never felt before. There was no pain. There was no sorrow. I had ascended. There was no one waiting for me inside the light, not yet. I have to wait until everything is final. Not until they put me in that dank hole in the ground and cover me up with the earth. Not until the last tears of agony have fallen, but before they turn into tears of acceptance. Only then will I leave this place and continue on with my journey. For now, I look down on her. I can’t feel her pain, but I know it has smothered her ability to be that warm, friendly girl she was a week ago. She leans against the door of the silver rust bucket that replaced the black ’82 Camaro she smashed in the parking lot of the high school. Just minutes ago she was curled up in the fetal position bawling her eyes out because she had lost the letters we wrote to each other in class. It was in that same big back seat that we had fooled around in just a few weeks ago. Her lips had tasted of cherry lip gloss and Black Velvet whiskey. We were a tangle of eager fingers peeling away the layers of constricting clothing. Her skin was soft and warm. Her cheeks flushed pink as the windows fogged up with the heat we were creating as we embraced. It lasted all of fifteen minutes until a truck rolled up shining its bright headlights into the car. She was so worried we’d get caught that she forgot to put her bra back on before spinning the tires in the weeds as we sped off leaving a trail of dust and gravel behind us. I kept her bra as a souvenir. The humidity in the July air has caused the tiny hairs on her head to frizz up. Her face is reddened from crying, but even so she is just as beautiful as she had always been. The wind takes hold of her hair again and she closes her eyes to keep the swirl of dust from the gravel road out of them. If I thought she could hear me, I would just tell her. But I fear my voice would become as lost as a whisper in the wind. I would tell her that I’m ok. That it’s not her fault. Would it do any good? Emotions fuel words, but beyond that, words do not have the power alone to take lives. Only stupidity and long nights of partying can do that. It hasn’t rained in weeks, but the humidity is a warning that soon the sky will open up and soak the earth. The rain will refresh everything it touches, breathing life into the limp and weary vegetation that strives on its hydration. With the lack of rain, I am surprised that it hasn’t struck her as odd. She has seen them every day. I made them for her, for everyone I loved and left behind. I’ve even toyed with the brief accumulation of billowy white clouds that came and went with the breeze. My mother saw them, but she was so bogged down with sedatives that even she did not make the connection. I am not looking down from above any longer; rather I am standing right beside her. I have no shape or form. No body to speak of. I am just a shadow of the being I once was. Her arms are crossed over her chest, eyes still closed as if that will make the pain go away. If she could just sleep forever she wouldn’t have to feel the guilt. She wonders if that’s what it’s like to die. Like a dreamless sleep where you just simply do not exist. I want to tell her it’s not like that at all. I want to tell her there is no pain, no suffering. That it is just like all of the stories she has ever heard of the hereafter, big bright light and all. The closer I get to her the more I can feel the electric pull; her life force drawing me in. I get too close and feel a jolt. A static shock surges through my essence. It is the first sensation of feeling I have had since the accident. Her eyes flittered open again, but she shows no signs that she senses my presence here with her. She stares straight ahead, eyes settling on the horizon. A small gust of wind breezes by stirring her hair once again. The scent of her floral shampoo dances around me. I breathe it in and hold my breath trying to capture the fragrance forever but the breezes snatches it up, stealing it from me. I float around her, taking her in from all angles. She sniffles a bit, a tear forms in her eye and she wipes it away before it can fall. The wind picks up creating a cyclone of dust alongside the road. The cat tails and Queen Anne’s lace sways this way and that in the banks of the dry ditch. The birds have all stopped chirping, but she doesn’t seem to notice the silence. Her bottom lip sticks out forming a pathetic, child-like pout. I trace my thumb along it remembering how it felt when we kissed. How sweet she tasted. I find myself longing to feel that again just one more time before I have to go. I press my lips against hers and the electricity races through me. Her eyes close instinctively, as if she can feel it too. It’s not the same soft feeling as before in the backseat, but it will suffice. Her lips part and she sucks in a startled breath. Has she felt me now? I take a step back. “I’m sorry” she says. It’s okay. “I didn’t mean to say it. I didn’t hate you. I was just… just so mad. I never really wanted you to die…” I know, it’s okay. I’m okay. The tears are heavy again, spilling out over her lashes, trailing down her cheek and dripping from her chin. Her chest heaves as she sobs uncontrollably. I reach out to wipe the tears away catching one on the tip of my finger. It is a tiny crystal dangling in the air. I gaze into it amazed at how beautiful the setting sun looks as it reflects off the tiny water droplet. This time she sees it. Realization shines in her eyes as she finally connects the dots. I see it too, reflected in her watery eyes. A bright, full scale, multicolor rainbow illuminates the cloudless sky. A tiny smile tugs at the corners of her once pouting lips. I’m okay.