Take My Hand, Let's Dance ~~A Short Story

Wait a minute. How did I get here? Wait. I was.....what was I doing? I was driving! Yes! I was driving and I was waiting to cross the road.......but, why am I here? Am I having a memory lapse?

I was sucked? Sucked into darkness..........and.....now....

"Onion" The deep, rich voice reverberated somewhere behind me.


"NO"...."NO!"......there was only one entity that called me Onion. I refused to look behind me. I will not acknowledge.

"Onion, you have to look at me."

"I don't! And I won't!" I will throw a fit. I will not look at Orion.

My vehicle was coming into view out of the darkness. The suckiness was wearing off of me and I could see somewhat........like through a veil. Huh. Whadya know about that.

My beautiful car was smashed. Trashed. And suddenly the memory of the whole incident rushed back to me like a silent movie that someone had hit fast forward on. The semi veered crazily and hit me going super fast. I was just sitting there, but it didn't matter. There was nothing that could have been done.

NOOOOO! What about my husband and children! I need to buy my groceries and cook dinner! What's going to happen?! I need to fix this! I need.....

"Onion"

"Would you just shut the fuck up!"

Why won't he leave?! Orion, in my life, is my Spirit Guide. We met on my Psychic Circle Board. He taught me all I know about the great beyond, and I never really took it seriously.....he told me that he had a job as Death. He reaped the spirits that crossed, by saying to them "Take my hand, let's dance."

That bastard will NOT say this to me.

Once when I was in that space between sleep and wake, at the cusp of dreamland, he pulled me from my body. I could see him though my eyelids. He crouched down and checked to see if I was sleeping. His eyes are bottle green in color. A vibrant, almost shocking emerald. That was the only time I had ever seen those eyes. He had flowing, brown hair. I remember thinking how much like a romance novel model he looked. He had taken my hand and lifted it and I remember how it felt. Like my hand wasn't in my body anymore. It was a strange sensation. It woke me from the cusp, and I opened my eyes. My hand dropped out of the air. I remember wanting to see him again.

I think he would be the ugliest thing ever now. I will not look behind me!

I want to be in my car, driving and listening to Manson, like I was. I want that mangled mess fixed NOW!!!! I want it fixed! I want it fixed! I want to feel my husband kiss my neck. I want to make dinner and watch The Big Bang Theory and laugh. I am not here! I am not! I am not!

"Onion, you know the drill. I've told you. You have three days to say your goodbyes and get over this. I suggest you do it. You don't want to stay here."

"Damn you, you bastard!" I never turned around.

He was gone. He left me. He left me! What do I do? Do I stand here and watch them clean up my mess? I want my husband! I want him now! I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed.

I was in my home. Time seems to be different. It is dark and silent. Shakespeare, my black cat sees me and hisses. Scaredy cat. My youngest daughter runs across the room. I can hear sobbing.

I don't want to be here. I should have gone with O. I don't think that I can deal with this. This pressing sadness. I look towards my bedroom, and suddenly I'm there. I see my husband lying on the bed. My oldest daughter is sitting next to him. I can hear the sobbing, but it sounds far off, like in a dream. DAMN IT!!!

I don't want to be here!

Time has changed again. My oldest daughter is releasing butterflies. So is my son. They remembered that I had mentioned wanting this done at my wake. I go towards them and my son lifts his head and sniffs the air. He looks at me and stares. Shit. I forgot he can see. I smile at him and fade.

I look over and see the bastard in his ridiculous, cliched cloak. Has it been three days? It can't have already been three days? What have I been doing?

He reaches his hand out.

"Don't you dare say it, O. Don't you dare."

His hand stays out, but he says nothing. I finally allow myself to look at his green eyes.

I see us sitting in a circle, laughing at the board. The 4 of our group when I met O. He was spelling out a limerick. One of his roses are red, violets are blue limericks. Now I can see where he was standing in the room. He was next to me, looking over my shoulder.

I sigh a ghostly sigh and walk over to him. "You bastard."

"Take my hand, Onion. Let's dance"

I reached for his outstretched hand and laughed. We danced toward the light.