(Yellow) Bring me to Life

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posted on Mar, 2 2004 @ 08:26 AM
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Bring Me To Life

“How can he see into my eyes like open doors…?”

Amanda was slightly chilled by the look he gave her. Everything about it was like a knife jammed into her body. It was cold, it was hard, and it seemed to pierce into and through her. Her bright green eyes seemed to tremble and shimmer, reflecting the light given off by the hundreds of candles placed around the abandoned school’s stage. His eyes followed what would have been her every move. The only problem was that she felt like a deer in the headlights- trapped. The silence was deafening.

“Leading you down into my core, where I become so numb…”

She wavered a bit, swaying slightly on her feet. It was inexplicable. She felt as if he was peering into her soul. He did not blink. His grey eyes formed a kind of mirror, warping her gaze and throwing it back at her. She was close enough that she could see nothing but her translucent self staring back at her.

“My soul…my spirit sleeping somewhere cold…”

No one knew why the young man was always there, in his shabby secondhand clothes. His face was a practiced, calm expressionless one. Amanda took one step forwards, closing the distance between them to a mere handful of feet. The walls of spite and cynicism her psyche had built up over the years buckled.

“Until you find it there in me…”

She let them topple down, watched them turn to dust. By now, he had stood. Emaciated, the firelight exaggerated the hollows of his poker face. He looked like a steel cable- taut and twisted, but still strong. Something inside him beckoned as well- she could see curiosity, desperation well up in his eyes.

“And bring…”

He leapt into the air from the stage above, old army jacket trailing as he landed directly in front of her in almost a running stance. One leg forwards, one back, and his left arm supporting the rest of the body.

“it…”

He stood. There was loss in his eyes, great loss. Terrible pain that mirrored her own. This time, it was not a reflection, but his own emotions. Everything else seemed to fade into the peripheral. There was a familiarity there, a kindred spirit in him.

“Home.”

Without knowing it, she collapsed into his arms. She had come here, to this broken down and abbandoned school, seeking shelter from the rain that poured outside and the inner demons that had plagued her since she had left her parent’s house. That, and the roving street gangs that had dogged her steps.

“Wake me up inside! Wake me up inside...”

The tears fell from her eyes. Something deep inside her had torn free from the shackles she had put on it. She sobbed into his chest for a while, not sure exactly how long. Something new arose in her.

“Call my name and save me from the dark!”

The door at the south side of the auditorium clanged open. There stood four street urchins, grinning in an unsettling manner. Amanda whipped around, then curled back behind the mysterious man. His arm shot out in a protective gesture, shoving her behind him and barring the path to the punks.

“Bid my blood to rise…before I come undone…”

One was wearing brass knuckles, and the two of the others had butterfly knives. It was clear what they wanted- Amanda. In a flash, a switchblade had appeared in the young man’s hand. It opened with a loud click. Tossing it into the air, he caught it so that the blade faced downwards.

“Save me from the nothing I’ve become…”

The four street punks charged forwards, weapons raised. The young man pushed her backwards, pointing towards the back of the stage. He planted his feet and awaited his fate. Amanda, in the meantime, stumbled out the back door, casting glances behind her. She saw the young man stab one of the urchins, tearing a large gash in his leg as he tripped the running man.

“Now that I know what I’m without…”

She burst out into a back alley, amongst the trash and pouring rain. Within seconds, she was soaked to the bone. She ran for a while in the grey, wet nothingness before she turned back around, looking expectantly towards the door she had just come through. Seconds later, the young man tumbled out, blood spewing from a cut on his cheek. Dazed, he barely stood to face his attacker. Amanda felt sick- she had seen his perfectly aligned back teeth through the wound.

“You can’t just leave me...”

The young man’s blade flashed in the dull amber of the streetlights, everything diffused by the downpour. It swept across the punk’s throat with vicious accuracy, as his friends emerged on the scene. With a gout of crimson that seemed to follow the arc of the strike, the guttertrash gurgled once and collapsed. His would-be rescuers turned pale and fled into the night.

“Breathe into me and make me real…”

Panting, he stood there. The rain slowly washed out the wound. Amanda still stood there in shock, as the sanguine pool around the body grew. Staggering, the young man walked over to her. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he gave it an affectionate squeeze before attempting to limp off.

“Bring me to life.”

She caught him as he fell. Looping a long arm around her shoulder, he dragged his shivering form back inside. There was much to be done, away from the cold, the dark.




Second submission be this. I'm thinking about merging it with the story with the bridge that I submitted last time. Thoughts?

DE




posted on Mar, 12 2004 @ 09:42 PM
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absolutely, i think it would make a great follow up to the bridge





 
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