Today, her thoughts are more restless than they have ever been. She is standing at the entrance of this corridor, which feels like standing on a cliff, where you can see the height and doom that awaits you, yet you want to fall.
What is it today?
She moved by the nurses and visitors waiting in the corridor when she noticed a shadow pass by her and quickly turned around to find nothing; everything appeared normal.
A trolley collided with her.
“Ow!” exclaimed she. The soft ‘Oh!’ of women lets out a guilt-ridden gasp.
The trolley that hit her quickly pulled away as she clamped her eyes shut in pain.
“I’m really sorry, Doctor.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, rubbing her knee. She straightens up, facing the weirdest pair of concerned eyes.
“Are you certain, Doctor?” The nurse’s petite, delicate triangle-shaped face grimaced.
“Yes, quiet,” She shook my head, attempting to get rid of the strange feeling. “Did you see Dr. Mills?”
“Oh, yes, She’s on her rounds, room 364,” she said, her weird purple-blue eyes twinkling. She blinked and proceeded to walk past the nurse.
Something odd about her eyes: the color was not normal. She’d never seen anything like it before. She turned to look for her, but the nurse was gone.
Natasha moved away as her stomach growled, reminding her of her immediate concern. It’s nothing, she breathes. She told herself.
She entered room 364 to find a patient, a man in his mid-thirties, skinny, his hair prematurely gray, and dull droopy skin. He was sleeping, and the beeping noises of the heart monitor and all the life support equipment, and the patient’s ragged breathing filled the room. Jody was not there; she turned to look down the corridor, but it was strangely vacant, and the light had dimmed. Why were there shadows in the middle of the day? She felt her stomach twist, and she could hear her breathing. As she noticed a dark figure hovering over the patient, her palms became clammy, her pulse pounded, and her blood froze.
“No,” She said as if she knows of what was happening.
Something was tugging at the back of her mind. As she enters the room, the hooded figure places a hand on the patient’s brow. She snatched it.
“Stop,” she murmured, then looked into the eyes hidden beneath the hood, dark sapphire blue eyes with red flexing gleaming dangerously in them. He looked pale, yet his complexion had black undertones, like shadows from the past on his smooth high cheekbones. A long face with a square jaw, a firm jawline, and a thin straight nose. She couldn’t take her gaze away, strangely riveted.
His other hand approaches her, chilly to the touch. She lowered her gaze. It felt familiar, like a smooth rock, but he had no force, no solidity. He seemed to recognize her. He softly grasped her hand, and her eyes raised to meet his. They have tenderness in them. He leaned forward as if about to reveal a secret to her. She unknowingly leans towards him.
“It’s fine,” he said quietly, his voice soft, rich, and dark.
“Trust me, I’ll look after him,” he promised. Natasha relaxed as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. Her fingers dropped from his, and the heart monitor stopped as she felt his breath against her face. A cold stone fell into her stomach, and he vanished into the night like a shadow.
A couple of nurses rushed in, a doctor announced the time of death, and Natasha ran out of there.
Three sets of eyes stare at her as if she’s grown two heads. She closes her eyes and prays to God for strength. The three security officers who monitor the CCTV footage in the security room were not pleased when she ordered them to rewind and forward the same time frame during the death of patient 364.
“Doctor, you are tired,” The one guard said
“There is no one in the hood here,” the other one said, who was attempting to be kind, replied. It’s pointless. Natasha knew what she saw; maybe she was hallucinating. She’s been overthinking that dream; might she have dreamed it all? She rubbed her temples, thanked them for their help, and walked away.
Her head was spinning all day; she couldn’t get those sapphire blue eyes out of her head.
She could only see him everywhere. She walked across the corridor, outside the building’s window, to the cafeteria. Every time she brought her eyes to focus and turned back, he vanished into thin air.
~~~~~~~~~
Azrael
The sun rises in the underworld when she arrives. In this arid land, he called his realm, the dry river reappears and runs behind his stone palace. The far east meadow blossoms as she steps in, and the woods that come alive the instant she arrives hide the darkness of this realm from her. She thinks it’s a dream, but she’s always known it’s real, that He is real. When she sleeps, her soul floats to the underworld, to him. He allows her to grasp him.
For the first time in two thousand years, he feels something, but what to call it, he does not know.
Azrael watched as she stepped her foot from the forest border. The trail of her dress blows into the breeze as her long cream dress drapes across her body. Her long dark hair swayed in the wind, her olive complexion turned nearly golden as the sun caressed her, and her brown almond-shaped eyes scanned the surroundings, frowning. He knows she is looking for him, but he has chosen to remain hidden today.
She would ask him questions He could not answer. When the underworld fire comes to take her, He will ensure she returns to the realm of the living, but He will no longer be able to interact with her. This has gone too far; He only intended to allow her to live for a few years. Until her wish of experiencing is fulfilled. He thought that nothing would make the authorities of Realm of Light’s head turn, but now the head is turning, and there is a lot at risk.
“Where are you?” she asked, her voice picked up by the wind.
She sighs and moves her gaze away. Is her slim figure shivering because she’s cold? He straightened up but then shook his head at his absurdity.
The human spirits passing through here don’t feel cold. They are insensitive to the celestial realm.
Maybe, but spirits were never supposed to be in the underworld; they were only supposed to travel through.
And you’re not going to let her go, his conscience said.
Is it that she has spent so much time in the underworld that has affected her? The uncomfortable thought occurred to him.
Azrael’s eyes wander to her, unknowingly walking towards her. If this is the case, she will soon be recorded in the books of the lost soul, tainted by the darkness, oblivious to her existence yet unforgotten of her pain.
The King of the Shadow realm will hunt her down. If this happens, she will be gone forever.
Azrael’s chest tightened as a result of the struggle in his mind.
He saw her turn away from the forest line, drifting to the other half of the meadow, and He appeared behind her, enveloping her delicate wrist in his palm. She shifted her weight.
Natasha’s eyes twinkled, and a faint echo of a -what could only be described as a heartbeat in the domain of the living – resonated in his hollow chest. He does not have life beating inside, but every time He sees her, He feels it. He is getting closer to it.
He has a strong sense of being close to the Realm of Light. He had to leave his home for the sake of this creation. He is close to the warmth he had long forgotten as she runs her hand through his chest.
He touched her wrist to keep her hand there.
“You frightened me today,” she admitted. Azrael knows she is talking about the incident at her workplace. A place where both death and life coexist. It’s only ironic that she chose to be a healer while He lurks in the shadows doing precisely the opposite… waiting for her kind to fail.
He returned her gaze, noticing her beautiful, bright eyes. She is a wonder that life provided, and He desired nothing more than this. When He drifts into the shadows, he often thinks about her eyes and sun-kissed olive face, her heated cheeks when she is close to him, and her smile.
He’s not sure what he’s hoping for. Why has he not done what his responsibility requires up to this point?
“Azrael,” she said quietly, his name on her lips, tying something inside of him together and keeping him from drowning in her eyes. He closed his eyes and drew her closer, letting the lilac fragrance wash over him.
“Let me remember you in my world,”
He opened his eyes, surprised.
“I don’t want to be afraid of you,” she says.
He slipped a strand of her hair behind her ears with his finger, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes half closed.
“You aren’t right now,” He said.
“This is different,” she pointed out.
“I can’t do it,” he stated, “I can’t do it.”
He can’t tell her about him in her world if she recalls him there. He won’t be able to do the inevitable. He is aware that he has gotten attached, but he is unaware of the extent of this attachment.
“But…” she swallowed her words.
The darkness triumphed again, the flowers faded, the water dried up, the sun turned into a death star, and the trees died. He jumped within the circle as fire wrapped around her.
“Azrael!” she screamed, her eyes wide with terror. He encircled her in his arms.
“Don’t be afraid; just wake up.”
“But, Azrael…” She gazed about, startled, as the fire encircled them and engulfed his robes. He clenched his teeth and felt the searing burn.