Drowning Yet Not Broken

The night I first saw her, I knew she would be the end of me. I was down on my luck. One of those spirals that musicians sing about, and poets write about. The kind of depression where I was on autopilot. No one could move me away from my sorrows. Until I met her. I was drunk walking back to my apartment from the bar down the street. Tequila was coating my tongue with Hennessey already in my belly. I knew better not to mix. I just didn’t care anymore. A drink was a drink. It was obscenely windy; the orange glow of the streetlights casting its ominous shadows on the slightly wet pavement. It was quiet at this witching hour. The last bar stragglers were yelling bye at me as I turned and left. I muttered some incoherent parting; pulling my jean jacket tighter around me. My footsteps echoed unevenly as I slowly made my way. The wind blew my hair about my head and I just knew my nighttime hair routine was going to suck. I mentally shuddered. Having that beautiful big curly hair was fun, until it was time to do it. That’s when I felt the shift in the air….a slight electrical charge that gave me chills. I stopped walking just near a closed old record store. My instincts told me to turn around. That’s when I saw her. Just a pale silhouette. Standing underneath the streetlight. A lone bag was floating behind her. She stood there stark naked. The ominous night tones and moonlight playing across her skin, like a cinematographer directing the scene. At first, I didn’t know what to think. I was inebriated. And a naked woman in the middle of a downtown Midwestern city, wasn’t that normal. As a woman myself, my protective nature kicked in. She looked about my age; 30 or younger. It was also astonishingly beautiful. “Are you OK?” I asked her. Her long blonde hair fell to the side as she regarded me. “Are you cold?” She asked. Confused, I made a face, looking around. I also had to be careful. She obviously wasn’t sane. “My name is Thora. I would like some assistance,” she said awkwardly, in a way like she wasn’t used to English as her first language. The way she spoke seemed to carry on the breeze. Making the hair on my arms stand up. My thoughts warred within me. What if she was in danger? What if she was in danger? Should I call the police? Before I could decide, she did it for me. She walked closer. Or I should say; she glided. For there were no footsteps since her feet were no longer on the ground. Fear told me to run, yet logic told me it had to be my drunkenness. That I was hallucinating. “You are lost.” She said, looking down into my eyes. She was taller than me up close, and her eyes were the clearest gray I’d ever seen. Her features are near perfectly symmetrical. Her eyebrows were near white. She was ethereal looking. I swallowed. “No, I’m not lost. I’m on my way home.” Once more she tilted her head to the side. The fall of her light blonde hair shimmering. “Could I come with you?” The way she looked into my eyes stole my breath. I couldn’t move. The wind seemed to pick up between us and I just knew I couldn’t leave her out there alone. Removing my jacket, I draped it over her shoulders. She stood motionless watching me with her clear irises. Her pupils are black and imposing. After I got the surrounding jacket, I looked around, making sure we were safe. “I live just over there. Please come.” She followed obediently, gazing at me thoughtfully. Up close, she smelled like the night air. I couldn’t describe her scent any other way, besides she smelled like fresh wind. We walked quietly. I was careful to avoid glass, since she was barefooted. We traded glances a couple of times and she smiled sweetly. Once in my building, she seemed more unsure as we made our way in and up the dark blue carpeted stairs. The plain white walls seemed too bland for someone as beautiful as her. She watched me step and seemed to copy my movements as we headed up.