Beckoning

“Come closer,” she whispered, “Do not be afraid.”

beckonPalm up, fingers curled ever so daintily, her bloody hand reached for me. I stared, transfixed, both horrified and entranced by her beauty. Again she beckoned, like a flower in a gentle breeze. I shivered as the same wisp of wind passed over me, thinking how the air that touched her elegance touched me. I longed to take her hand and become like her. But I knew I wasn’t worthy and turned away.