She was a woman, but she was anything but human. She was as old as time and existed through all of space. She is everywhere and nowhere.

Their were stories of her. Some called her a reaper, some called her a saint, some thought her to be a God, but she was none of those things. She was simply a woman doing her job.

And this was one of those times when said job tested her. She existed only for one purpose: to make people care again. Her goal was to make those that had lost all emotion feel again. Make those who wished for death want to live again. Hope.

Sometimes it was something physical that did it, sometimes mental, sometimes lust, sometimes joy, and sometimes love.

Love was one emotion she'd been told of, and seen, but had never quite understood. It was as foreign to her as aging, as living in a single moment in time, rather than being a part of it.

Some people needed to experience love to gain their emotions back, so she would find a way to bring love into their lives. It was a beautiful thing.

She'd never experienced love and figured she never would. Some human emotions she could feel, some she knew well. Some she was sure she'd never have the pleasure of knowing. So, she watched others feel them.

But sometimes she failed to bring people back to themselves, to make them feel again. Sometimes people were too far gone. She could do nothing for them but escort them to the next life, and so she did. Those moments filled her with sorrow. It was the only emotion she knew so well.

The boy before her was young, too young to be filled with such anguish, such hopelessness, such emptiness. He was looking like he would be one of the few she wouldn't be able to save. It was the youngest one yet. She didn't want the small child to die. She wanted to give him a life. She could see an infinite amount of futures where he becomes a man, has a family, is happy. She wanted that for him. She couldn't bear the thought of him not even getting the opportunity to be happy.

This is fear. She'd thought as she glanced down at the child.

She stood now in a small alleyway behind an old butcher shop in the center of town, pacing. Her black heels clacking on the cobblestone beneath her feet. Her dress blew in the wind. It was a deep burgundy that almost looked black on nights like this and hugged her curves elegantly.

She took a puff of her cigar, stopping to look at the poor boy at her feet. He was shaking from cold and was so thin not even his old worn clothes could hide his bones. His stomach groaned in pain and his cheeks were hallow.

He is pitiful. She thought as she stared.

She takes the fur coat off her shoulders and lays it over the child. He blinks his eyes open for a moment before widening.

She simply just nods and he quickly falls back into dreams. His eyes dart in different directions underneath his eyelids. She smiles at it. Placing a hand on the child's bony cheek. He unconsciously leans into her touch.

A longing for something human hits her and she quickly pulls back her hand and stands, taking another puff of her cigar.

The longing to be a mother, to love and be loved unconditionally by something that came from you. She knew she'd never have that, and so she turned away from the child. He was precious and pure as all children were, but a darkness lingered in him that she would have to exterminate.

He was everything she'd want in a child, though ideally healthier. Her thoughts ran rampant, thinking of what it would be like to have a child, a family. To love and be loved.

She couldn't help herself as she looked back at him. He was small, too small for his age. His growth was most likely stunted from the poor life he lived.

She needed to come up with a plan, some sort of idea of what to do. How could she save this precious child?

She stood there till morning, smoking, and trying to come up with any idea as she waited for the child to awake. She could do nothing else until then. But that was a dangerous thing to do.

One of the most dangerous places to be, is left alone with one's thoughts, but as light filled the sky and the child began to stir she was saved from herself.

She put out the cigar.

"Good morning," she smiled at the boy. He looked confused, still trying to shake off the pull of sleep.

"Who are you?" His voice croaked, but there was a softness to it. A sweetness that warmed her heart. It was honey on a sore throat.

"I am the owner of that coat." She avoided the question.

He looks confused, so she nods to the fur coat still draped over his legs. He looks down, his eyes widen in understanding, then furrow in confusion before settling on worry.

He lifts the coat up off him and the ground and assessed it.

"Why would you lay such a precious thing on something so dirty?" He asked as he tries to brush off the dirt that had made it onto the beautiful black coat. He speaks about himself as if he is a dirty rag.

"No darling," she says. "I placed an old coat on something extremely precious to keep that precious thing warm. The coat is worth nothing compared to the treasure that lay beneath it." The smile that tugs at her lips was genuine. She did not lie, she had no need to.

His eyes widen. He looks down at himself, seemingly disappointed with what he finds. He looks back up with a questioning look.

"How would you like a job?" She offers, as she takes the coat and puts it on, not caring about the dirt. The boy's face shows utter shock at her movements.

"I can't pay you in mortal money," she continues as she turns and walks away. "But I promise you food, clothing, education and a bed."

She stops and turns when the boy doesn't follow. "Well, are you coming?"

He quickly catches up to her and walks beside her. Still shocked.

She knew it was a bad idea, but for once, she wanted to be selfish. For once, she wanted something.

"What type of work?" He asks, knowing that far too often things are too good to be true.

"You would simply accompany me throughout my work and lend me a hand when needed." She speaks, making her way out to the busy market square. The boy pulled his old hat lower, covering his face.

---

Glancing up to the tall woman, he noticed she did not shy away like him and if anything, only stood straighter and walked more sure beside him. Was she not embarrassed to be seen with him?

"What kind of work do you do?" He asked, still wary.

"You do ask a lot of questions, don't you?" She looked down with a small smile. Before turning to a vendor and holding out her hand. The man grabbed the most beautiful red apple from his stand in her hand. She thanked him and continued through the morning market.

"I make people feel and care about things. When all hope is lost I come and give them that hope back." She hands the apple to him.

He doesn't quite know what to think of all this. She is a strange woman. Unlike anyone he'd ever met, and yet she felt like someone genuine. Like someone he could trust.

He also hadn't ruled out the chance this could all be a dream. It made the most sense, though he'd never had a dream like this. He decided that even if it was, that it would be better to accept her offer than to continue withering away in an alley.

"Okay," he takes the apple, his mouth watering at the thought of a bite of it. "I'll work for you."

"Wonderful," she stops and turns to face him abruptly and smiles. They stand in the very center of the town square. People were all around them, yet none were paying any notice to them. She places her hands on his shoulders, and as he blinks, the world changes around them.

Suddenly the town square is gone, and he is in a large round room. The walls are a rich green; the roof is glass and filled with the bright morning sunlight. The floor is a mosaic of marble in the design of a rose. There are huge windows and doors with a balcony to his left. The air was fresh and cool.

This is surely a dream.

To be continued...

January 7, 2024