Okay folks... I'm cheating.

I'm tired, had meetings with clients today... went out with a friend tonight (NO, not romantic)... ran myself around town all over the place, lovin it the whole time. Music blaring, sunroof open, even in the rain... so maybe that makes it a rainroof... regardless... I had a great day, and I'm totally wiped. I've been awake (cept for four hours of sleep) since 10am Wednesday morning. It's now 2:30 am Friday morning. *grins* And I still have to post on Tiger's diary.

Um... so, instead of a real, out of my head, post... You're getting a story I wrote a little while ago...

The Mortal Coil

D. S. Vic

I am enraptured with you. I see your thick chest, your long arms, your gentle eyes. Mmmmm, how I always enjoyed your quiet voice. I see your dusty red hair as it falls forward over your face. I smile. I'm tempted to brush it back, but...

I can see the way your muscles move as you push the broom. You're cleaning up in the shop. The sweat beads on your brow. I so long to wipe a cool cloth over your face, giving you some relief, but...

And again your arms bulge as you lift the heavy oak piece you've been working. I wonder what you're making. Your deft fingers guide your blade as you carve the details. Then the blade slips and you jerk away from the bench. You don't move because of the pain, but because you dare not ruin your piece with blood.

I lurch forward, wanting to care for you, wanting to help you, but I stop just before stepping into the light. You wash your hands, cleansing your wound the way I want to. You apply a bandage... no more pain.

You go back to your work -- the details hard to read at first. And then, as if in a flash, I can see the image you're carving. A tiger peers at me, the eyes so intense I get nervous. It seems as if it were staring through me.

In time a wolf joins the huge feline. Your hand work is so incredible, it's almost as if the animals will come to life... some twisted Pinnocchio story.

And then you stop. Your fingers brush lightly over the animals you have made. A caress, a gentle, loving touch; I wish it were my own face your fingers reach.

Yet your fingers begin to tremble. You drop the knife to the bench, leaning forward. You lay your head on your arms, your broad shoulders shaking. Your entire body shakes and my heart is ripped from my chest.

How I wish I could take you in my arms, holding you close. I move to your side, unable to stop myself. I reach out my hand...

You gasp, pulling in a long, ragged breath. For a moment it seems you'll stand again, but then I hear your cold, desolate whisper.

"I loved her. God, how I loved her."

I reach out again, unable to control myself. Softly I whisper to you.

"I'm here, love."

And yet you don't hear me. I can almost feel your skin -- yet my hand passes through your body.

I release a quiet, anguished howl, my pain feeding off of yours. Again I reach for you, to touch your hair, give you some comfort. I can't touch you, I can't reach you.

My God how this rips me apart. To be so close; to hear your grief; to see your young hands shake so; to reach out to you; to not be able to touch you... And to not know why.

I take a step back, suddenly very affraid. I wonder if you're a ghost. I wonder if you were sent here to increase the pain I bear. I wonder if you're just a figment of my imagination.

Did I fantasize all the times I'd held you? Did I imagine the love in your eyes...

I take a few more steps back and realize that I am shaking. I wish this were a dream, only so that you wouldn't be wracked with so much grief; so that you wouldn't feel so much pain in your heart.

I look at you again. I see you've straightened your shoulders. You stand and turn from your carving. As you walk toward me, you caress the tiger one last time. Then you walk out the door and the shop is plunged into shadow.

The carving is highlighted by a stray moonbeam. Again it seems the tiger and wolf are live creatures. Then, and only then, as I see one of your prescious tears rolling from the wolf's eye, do I realize the truth.

I am the ghost.

I'm out, folks. Peace unto thy hearts...