Dead Things and Code Switching

I need feedback on this. Sorry for the vulgarity

She was here again tonight.

            It was past midnight, and he was back for the third night in a row. No cameras, no recording devices or anything like that, just himself, here to see if she was back again. He sat leaning against a large, flat rock at the bottom of the break wall to the harbor, dipping his bare feet into the icy, black water.  It began to soak the bottom of his jeans, but he failed to notice it.

She was moving slowly toward him.

            Knowing her genuinely intrigued him. She glided along each dock in the harbor, constantly glowing a pale silver color, just like the moon. She never made any noise; no moans, wails or screams. He wondered if she could say anything to him. He realized then it was as good a time as ever to find out, as she now stood about ten feet from him. He looked at her bruised face and saw terror in her eyes.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he said to her softly. “I just wanted to say hello. Can you speak at all?”

She inched closer to him, but not by much, never taking her eyes off him. After a few moments, she leaned in and whispered, “Yes, I can speak.”

            Her look was rather peculiar: aside from being silvery and half-transparent, she was covered in bruises, especially on her arms and face. The ones on her arms looked a lot like fingerprints, and that bothered him. Her delicate shoulders were exposed through her torn clothing, and he could see dried blood on them. Her hair was wet, almost as if she had just been swimming in the moments prior to their encounter. As they spoke, his body began to tremble in fear at the sight of her, but adrenaline kicked in. He wanted to know more.

“What is your name?” he asked gently. She looked past him suddenly, out towards the sea. With immense sadness, she replied to him.

“It has been so long since someone cared that I do not remember.”

Feeling her sadness, he studied her for a moment, and then spoke to her.

“You look like you would make a wonderful Emma. May I call you that?”

She looked at him intently, with a sharp gaze that softened after a while. For the first time, he noticed her eyes were bright blue. It was the only source of color on her entire body. She inched toward him once more and nodded slowly. She did not smile.

He continued. “Emma, can you tell me why you come here every night?”

“I never leave.” Her words haunted him.

“What happened to you, Emma?” He was almost afraid to hear what she had to say.

She looked sharply at him. “Murder,” she whispered. “I was murdered.”

This time it was he who inched toward her, and he lifted a hand to reach out to her, although he knew he could never touch her. his voice remained gentle and calm.

“Who murdered you?”

Enraged suddenly, she threw her silhouette backwards and shouted, “A man who was supposed to love me! He is the most vile creature I have ever known.”

Shocked, he replied slowly. “He got away with it? Tell me what happened, Emma.” He wasn’t sure why he wanted to know so badly. Everything about her made him curious.

Shouting still, she replied. “I loved him once, when I knew nothing of love. I gave him all of me and he beat me in return. The b*****d was never drunk, always clean and sober, but he beat me anyways. Do you see these bruises on my arms? He gave them to me! He was angry because I wouldn’t f**k him anymore. Delusional, he was! As if I owed him something for the regular beatings he gave me. He took me out here and grabbed my arms; told me what a b***h I was and how lucky I was he even wanted me. I was sick of him. I looked into his lifeless eyes down into his black soul and told him how much I wished he didn’t want me. He hit me in the face more than once, then threw my off the break wall.  I hit several rocks on the way down, and as I did I shouted at him to rot in Hell. Rot in Hell, you b*****d! He is a sad, disgusting excuse for an existence. I would rather be dead than live knowing he walks the same soil. Drowning was the sweetest revenge I could ever have asked for. I regret nothing, but he can rot in Hell.”

Her words echoed in the silence of the late night hours. He was stunned, unable to move or speak. She was sobbing, and as he reached for her once more, she screamed and turned her back to him. She set out over the stormy sea, her long, wet hair billowing behind her as she left. Left shaking on shore, he had one thought only, and it disturbed him:

He wanted to love her.  

Author's Note

feedback! thanks :)

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A powerful and strong opening chapter. Add a introduction. Give the who, what. where, why and when to make the storyline stronger. I like the description of abuse and the desire of the man to be kind to her. The story had great possibilities. Thank you for the strong opening chapter.
Coyote

[Marie]

There's nothing vulgar about this; it's beautiful and touching. I had to read it a second time to make sure Emma was a ghost. A very troubled one, obviously.