Thanks to everyone for your help in my other thread "First Few Paragraphs". I've pieced the chapter all together with a new bit added.
Gave it a 'for now' title: After Death.... I'm not sure I'll like that for a title in the end...
I'm still not satisfied with the very beginning, but I guess everyone rewrites their first paragraph a million times
I've found everyone's comments and suggestions very helpful (especially you Willy! *smooch*)
Please keep the comments coming!
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The day that I died is still a blur to me. I only know the details of the event itself from newspaper articles that I made the mistake of digging up years later. Nor do I recall anything special or significant happening that day that could explain the course of events that followed. My life had originally been exceptionally unexceptional. I can't say that I hadn't enjoyed my life, but it had been so predictable. It wasn’t the exciting kind that I lived in my childish fantasies, full of love and adventure. I had been dreaming of something more, unsatisfied with what I had attained. When my time came I accepted my death easily. I didn't struggle to hang on to life as so many do instead I just let go. All my years of imagining a different life hadn’t prepared me for the one I was about to be given.
The confusion, the rush of pain, and the fear that came when the car struck me and my body went sailing through the air, accompanied me to the dark and wet alley in which I awoke. I am still not sure exactly how much time passed between my death and that moment when I stood on shaky feet and brushed the dirt from my newly acquired legs. The details of my previous life swirled with those of my new identify, and the disorientation that sprung from that muddle of experience caused me to pay little attention to the actual transition. I died as Marie and I awoke as Emma.
I stumbled a few meters before my jelly legs wore out and I fell at the feet of a woman in sleek high-heeled shoes. My eyes traveled up her shapely leg, to the short black skirt of her business suit, and finally landed upon an unwelcomingly cold expression. I took it that she wasn't accustomed to shabby street urchins invading her heavily perfumed personal space. The sound of the rushing city traffic hurt my head and I winced in the bright sunlight that cut the mouth of the alley in a diagonal slice. I moved out of her way, more to seek the solace of the shadows than to convenience her, but she seemed satisfied enough with my actions to turn her hateful glare off me and back at the man who she was verbally bashing with unrelenting anger. At first he was unaware of my presence, so distraught at this woman's public display, so I was afforded the chance to hide in the shadows and unknowingly observe him. He was beautiful, a man whose eyes held a depth that seemed impossible considering his youth. His hair was short, with large curls that he failed at trying to tame. The strong line of his jaw was cleaned shaven, and he carried a book bag that didn't fit with the tidy suit he wore. It gave him the appearance of a boy trying to play the part of a man and being only moderately successful. The disorientation of my transition was forgotten as I took in the sight of him. I like to say that I knew in that moment that I loved him, but honestly it wasn't until his sad eyes fell upon mine that I truly felt it; the connection.
The woman was shouting at him about some engagement that they were late for, stating that he was always holding them up. She had continued walking after I had removed myself from her path, but he remain glued to the ground as he took in my dirty clothes and disheveled red hair. She stomped back over to him huffing in annoyance and grabbed his arm to bring his focus back upon her.
"Charlie, for God’s sake would you get your head out of the clouds. If you make us late for this, I swear..." Her threat was lost in the blast of a car horn as she moved out from the curb, waving a well-manicured hand in attempt to hail a cab. Ignoring her ranting, he bent down to sit on his heels and face me.
"Are you alright?" The softness of his voice held me momentarily hypnotized. I found my voice eventually, but it sounded strangely unfamiliar to me as I used it.
"I think I’m okay. Just a bit dizzy, thanks." I ran an unsteady hand over my head, a nervous habit, and felt the thickness of my hair. I knew that something was not right, I had expected thin strands of long silky hair to slide between my fingers, but instead found it course and knotted.
The woman called out to him as a yellow car pulled up beside her. She opened the door and her eyes flashed with irritation when she turned to see that he wasn't following. She threw an order in at the driver and stomped through the crowded sidewalk towards us. The driver must have taken offense at her tone and the cab shot back out into the bustling traffic.
"Do you need anything?" He asked me, unaware of the whirlwind of blonde fury that was fast approaching.
I shook my head but he looked at me with an eyebrow raised in doubt. I tried to sort out the jumble of my brain but found I was unable to decide what my name was or where I lived. It's difficult to describe what having two separate identities mingling in your mind at once can do to your sanity. Every instinct I had was contradicted by my intellect. Marie knew that speaking to the man was the right thing to do; he could help her figure out where she was exactly and what had happened to bring her to this alley. Emma however, was wary of strangers and felt contempt at such an obviously wealthy man showing her sympathy.
"She's probably drunk, can we please go before you loose your wallet to her? Now, come on let's go!" The woman tapped her toe impatiently, wrinkling her nose in distaste at his concern for a vagabond.
He blushed, embarrassed at the way she spoke. I was burning with rage; she might have been safer waving a red flag at a bull. With Emma's instincts taking over I pushed myself up on to my feet to confront the hateful woman.
"Where do you get off talking to people like that? Who the hell do you think you are lady?!" In retrospect I think Emma actually may have been drinking before I came to inhabit her body. The adrenaline alcohol cocktail pumping through her - my - veins, was leaving me on edge. From the way the woman stepped back from me, I must have looked as crazed as I felt.
“Don’t you dare speak to me that way you piece of trash.”
Her words echoed in my brain. Trash. Someone else had called Emma that and she didn’t like hearing it one bit. I unconsciously took another step forward, my hands clenching into tight fists.
“Miranda. Why don’t I just meet you there?” Charlie stood, coming to stand between us. He placed a gentle hand on my arm, silently pleading with me to calm down.
The contact of his hand on my skin sent waves of panic through my body. I jerked away from him as if he’d bitten me. Miranda squeaked, mistaking the movement as an aggressive one towards her. She nodded to Charlie, and haughtily jutting out her chin, she strode away. Miranda, as it turned out, was all bark and no bite. Her heels clicked sharply against the pavement. She managed to look arrogant even in retreat.
As she made her exit, Charlie turned to face me. I drew away, afraid that he would try to touch me once again. I didn’t want contact.
Up until that point I had felt only half way inside my skin, as if I was only a tingle up someone’s spine as a cool breeze passed. His hand had pulled me all the way into Emma’s body and there was now no escape. I felt as if I’d been shoved, crumpled and jammed into a space that wasn’t large enough to contain me. It made it obvious that this body wasn’t mine and that I didn’t fit in my new form. I looked out from eyes that didn’t belong to me and the hands that I held out in front of my face weren’t familiar. The longer I inhabited Emma’s body, the less comfortable I felt.
Charlie continued to examine me, obviously not sure what to make of my reaction. His eyes made me feel vulnerable, like an animal frozen in place by approaching headlights. I clawed at my arms, my face and my body. I wanted out of this prison of flesh. I turned and ran down the alley, away from the man who made me feel so exposed. I didn’t want him to look at me; I wanted to disappear. I threw myself around a corner and hid behind a dumpster. I was crying freely and the tears prickled at my skin. My senses were heightened from fear, making the goose bumps that arose on my flesh feel like ants tracking up and down my arms.
When my tears were finally spent, I curled into a ball and lay on my side. I paid no attention to the filthy ground that I rested my head upon. I bit my lip in frustration, as I tried to deny what was happening, and tasted coppery blood. The pain was light but it gave me something to focus on, something that made the noise in my head fade to a light murmur. I bit down harder and dug my nails into my skin, making little half moons on my palms. I felt myself relax, the tension in my chest released and I fell into a deep sleep.
Groggily, I awoke in total blackness and lay still, trying to get my bearings. My back was sore from the hard surface on which I had fallen asleep and there was a dull ache in my head from a mild hangover. I felt momentarily embarrassed as I determined I must have been drinking that night and had not made it to my bed. The sound of tiny, scurrying feet snapped me to attention and the alley rushed back. My fingertips grazed the gritty asphalt and I became aware of the faint smell of rotting food. The fear I had felt earlier came rushing back and I rose to escape the creatures that were lurking in the dumpster beside me.
I made it around the corner before I tripped over my new feet and tumbled to the ground. I landed hard, my hands submerged in a shallow puddle of foul smelling water. I screamed out my frustrations to the night sky and I rose to pound at the walls, bruising my toes and bloodying my hands on the brick. People on the streets peered down the alleyway curiously as they passed but nobody stopped to intervene. I once again wore out my strength and flopped to the ground, leaning my back against the wall I had just finished pummeling. I rested my head on my knees, linking my hands behind my head so that my arms covered my ears. I hid in the silence for a while, concentrating on my breathing. Each intake made me feel steadier and more connected to my new body. I stood and decided it was time to face the truth. I made my way cautiously to the street. I turned to the first window I encountered and, bracing myself, looked at my reflection. The girl that stared back at me with sad eyes was pretty, but the years of living on the street had aged her face leaving her looking worn and tired. Her hair, a bright mane of red, was standing out in all directions. Her cheeks were smeared with dirt that contrasted the paleness of her skin. She was a skinny thing, and the rumble in my stomach awakened me to the fact that Emma hadn’t eaten in days.
The truth was undeniable now, and I feared that I had lost my mind. Was I always Emma? Did Marie ever exist? It was an appropriate time to get hysterical again, but I didn’t, I closed myself off from the rush of emotions.
“Are you going to tell me what happened to you?” Charlie asked as his reflection joined mine in the glass.
I gnawed at my sore lip, avoiding his eyes in the glass. A quick shake of my head was his only answer and it sent strands of damp hair falling to mask my face.
“What’s your name?” He reached out to place a comforting hand on my back but hesitated, no doubt remembering my previous reaction. He withdrew, and waited patiently for my response.
My name. He wanted to know my name. He must have taken my hesitation as a sign of distrust, so he didn’t push for me to reply. I realized that it was not him that I didn’t trust it was myself. I could at least reasonably assume that he was lucid; I had no such luxury when examining my own sanity. Since I was no longer sure if Marie was real or only a dream I chose the safer answer.
“Emma. Emma Williams.”
“Emma?” He smiled at me as the name flowed over his tongue. He shoved one hand in his pocket and the other smoothed his hair in a nervous gesture that, from the state of his floppy curls, I guessed he made a dozen times that day. “I’m feeling kind of hungry, you want to join me for a bite?”
I turned to my back to the glass and looked him over. His suit was rumpled and dirty and I wondered if he had been waiting for me on the street all day. I wasn’t sure if I should be touched by the gesture or creeped out. This was, after all, a gorgeous and wealthy man. What could he possible want with a crazy street waif?
My stomach eventually betrayed me, letting out an embarrassing rumble. He slapped a hand over his mouth, but his eyes gave him away as they danced with laughter.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckled. “Come on.”
“But I’m not…” The words trailed off as I rubbed at my dirtied cheeks and tried to straighten my disheveled clothes. I didn’t want people staring. They certainly would if they saw my damp jeans, with the knees ripped out, and my once white shirt that was now way beyond the help of Clorox. I didn’t want to even think about how I must have smelled.
“It’s alright, we can grab some take-out and go to my place. You can get cleaned up there.” This made me hesitate. Go to a man’s house by myself? More of Emma’s memories swam to the surface but one glimpse had me cramming them back down again. With my heart pounding, I stepped back from him. Charlie was charmingly sweet and good-looking, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a stranger. I was confused and scared that I would make a bad judgment.
Charlie saw the color drain from my face and the smile dropped from his. “It’s okay Emma. You’ll be safe with me. Besides, it’s better than the alternative isn’t it?” He waved a hand in the direction of the alley.
He had me there. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat and followed him down the street.
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Well, what does everyone think so far? It's small for a first chapter, but I'm sure, on revisiting it down the road, I'll be able to beef it up.