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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The first in a series of short stories all about the main character who is having strange outer-body experiences.

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Submitted: April 04, 2010

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Submitted: April 04, 2010



It was a small drop of water, almost too small to notice, and yet it fell down to the surface of the still lake; falling with a motion so gentle and fast as if determined leave the vapory clouds above, skip past every tuft of air, just to join the waters below as swiftly as possibly. It had fallen alone, accompanied by no torrential downpour nor crack of thunder. And still it fell, causing an impact that sent the surface of lake cascading up in a sequential torrent of bubbles and infinitely smaller droplets that sprung forth like a blooming flower. Then, as suddenly as they had come up, fell back and lashed out at the source of the disturbance with a single blip upward, then back to still nothingness and the faintest of ripples.
Gwen looked up to the source of the small disturbance, it was nothing more than the remnants of a storm manifesting itself on the edge of a cherry blossom. A small smile crept across her thin, angular face, a smile that seemed almost too small to notice, and yet it was there, appearing only in the lightest corner of her finely curved lips.
Another drop fell, from another leaf.
It landed squarely on her forehead, and she let herself fall back into the soft wet grass. The faintest spray of water flecks dashed up for no more than an instant before catching on the edge of Gwen's face and arms. A calm peace fell over her, showing in only the subtlest of gestures on the creamy smoothness of her skin.
She breathed in. She breathed out. She breathed in more slowly. She breathed out slower still.
Mentally she counted down. Three, two, one...
She breathed out. The air went still for no more than a split second before the rain spattered in faintly drizzling waves. Again, the world was filled with a mist of near moisture. Gwen felt herself fall into the nothingness of the calm, that place that existed somewhere between the conscious and unconscious. She felt her thin frame seep deeper into the wet grass, felt her short blond curls soak in wetness of the gently falling mists.
She was home.
“Caprisha!” A voice called her awake like a sudden jolt to the knee, like being struck with an innumerable amount electricity right on the spinal column. Gwen breathed deeply, gasping for air, reminding herself that she was alive. “Caprisha!” Another jolt, this time to the chest, and the sky began to fade away. First in small digital flecks, and then in wide cascades; down the gray back drop, then the trees, the lake, the grass, even the rain, all slipped away until only a 140 pound, 5'4”, muscle-bound woman dressed in olive drab was left laying on a blue, matted floor.
Short crops of ashen-gray hair tumbled around her ovular face.
The fingers on the woman's right hand twitched.
Her head rolled to the left and she saw her arm there, limp on the blue mat. It was covered in black and blue bruises. She sat up slightly and looked down at her body. Everything was in tact. She sighed heavily.
“Here,” she moaned, her voice, for whatever reason, raspy and dry. She lay there for a moment, running over the check list: 10 fingers, 10 toes, two legs, two arms...everything, in functioning order.
Sitting up, Caps found herself lightheaded and sick to her stomach.
“Whu...what happened?”
Another young woman approached her, and knelt down next to her. She was taller than Caps, had darkened olive toned skin, and dark brown hair that was perpetually pulled back into a pony-tail. Shortly cropped bangs hung in a fan just over her eyebrows, accentuating her hazel eyes. The woman's face read worry. Caps smiled and nodded.
Never mind, I don't need to know, Trish. I really don't need to know.”

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