The Farm

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She was really pretty, in a dead sort of way, her milky eyes focused upon him, as she searched for a flicker of hope, or recognition.
“Do you know me?”
He smiled reassuringly, reaching out to help her from the last three steps that lead from the front porch of the main house onto the center circle driveway of his farm.
“You don’t know your name? Who you are?”
The normal disorientation of re-materialization, occurred each and every time, he welcomed a new visitor to his place, but it was never easy to not openly show his compassion, and sadness for their situation, but rather stay reassuring.
“I am not sure, Nickie maybe?”
He nodded, remembering the notice he received just a second before she came to be up on his cluttered porch. Two white overstuffed garbage bags framed his red front door, leaving almost no sight onto the small red plants one of his other residence has placed on it. It was the middle of spring cleaning week, and nothing was exactly yet back to where it was supposed to be.

Not the best way to make a first impression.

And he always wanted to make a good first impression.

“Nickie Garson. Your name is Nickie Garson. Welcome to The Farm.”

She cocked her head sideways, which made her look even prettier, her shoulder length red hair framing her face with perfect curls. She must have had the most beautiful eyes. Green most likely.
But with all of his residence, the eye color never showed its full power, as it has when they were alive.
It did not make her less attractive.

At least to him.

He almost shook his head at himself, but managed to continue with the reassuring smile.
Not a good idea to fall in love with one of the Spirits.
Not that there were rules against it.
It just did not make any great sense.

The hell with sense.

“You are beautiful.”
“Thank you.” As her face lit up with gratefulness and a little shy smile, his heart pounded hard enough that he swore she could hear it.
“I am Sam by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Sam.” She glanced around the manicured front yard of his 50 acre property. The sun appeared, as if on que, caressing the trees and perfectly placed flowers, giving a sence of serenity to the entire space.
“What is this place?”
He stretched out his hand toward her, grabbing onto it, as if never wanting the let go.
“It is your new home. Your sanctuary. A safe place for those who have not let go off this world, because they still have something to finish.”
Her eyes widened, as she tightened her grip upon his fingers.
So cold, so dead, yet so ALIVE.
“Am I…?”
“Indeed, you are. Welcome home, Nickie.”

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2014

This flash fiction is a part of the back story to two of my characters in my dark urban fantasy series. It is also a part of the Daily Prompt for today – “pressure”, which ask

Do you thrive under pressure or crumble at the thought of it? Does your best stuff surface as the deadline approaches or do you need to iterate, day after day to achieve something you’re proud of? Tell us how you work best.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us PRESSURE.

Writing a book, let alone a series can be a daunting task, which can be intimidating and time consuming. But I have made it my mission to finish it – it might take longer then I originally intended, but it will be finished, one book at a time, and it will be polished and tight. So bring on the pressure. I can handle it, it’s all good.

Have a great day everyone!

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