Pancakes With Chocolate Syrup

She was going to die. The thought seemed incredible unreal, and the panic surged up inside her. A voice roared up inside her head. She didn’t want to die not like this-- She wanted to live--

Her tongue seemed to be filling her mouth, her mind was clouding. She felt consciousness slowly slipping away, her body going limp. With a twinge of shock she realized that she was dying-- this was it, this weakness, the confusion of her mind and senses-- this was death meeting her.

Somewhere in the darkness that followed Lacie heard a voice. “Oh no--., oh my God no!” She was inquisitive about it. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with her. She was drifting far away in a cold place; she didn’t have either the desire or the strength to get back.

Someone somewhere was breathing, rapidly, roughly, as if they had been running, she tried to ignore them because if she didn’t they would drag her back and she didn’t want to return. She had escaped, she didn’t quite know from what, only that she did not want to go back. It was safer here. It was quiet. Nobody hassling or tried to hurt her anymore.

“Don’t die, Lacie--I couldn’t bear it!” the voice said, much closer to her, sounding as if to be suffering.

She didn’t want emotion breaking in on her peace. She frowned irritable, her thick eye lids flickering.

“Ah--” There was a quick gasp for air, and then someone picked up her wrist and held it carefully, fingers pressing into her blue vein. They were checking for her pulse, she dimly understood. Was there one? Hadn’t her heart stopped beating yet? She was sure it had. It must have, she was dead, wasn’t she? How long did it take to die?

There was a long sigh, then a hand touched her face very gently, brushing the curve of her cold cheek, and she thought, you can’t feel a touch if you’re dead? You can’t hear the living?

“You’re alive--.” the deep, husky voice murmured. “Oh Lacie--I thought for one terrible minute that you were dead, but God spared you, and you are alive--”

No, he was wrong. She was dead. She remembers dying.

“Wake up, Lacie,” he whispered, warm lips moving in her pale, closed eye lids.