Standing forever.

The sky was bright, but it wasn’t hot. She couldn’t feel the sun and though the water sparkled down below there was no wind, not even a breeze. The bridge was red. It cast no shadow and had no reflection.

When she turned to look behind, as she stood on the rails, she saw an empty road. Black asphalt and yellow lines down the middle.

She looked down again and wondered if she knew how to swim, thinking that even if she didn’t she probably wouldn't drown. You couldn't drown if you were already dead.

She was pretty sure no one caught her when she fell.

Luna looked out over the water once more, but there was still no sign of boats. Or dolphins.

“Who are you?!” she asked in a shout, startled by a man who appeared ready to walk right past her. He had white hair. She thought he looked like snow. Cold and falling.

Or dancing in the air.

He blinked too slowly, as if he hadn’t done it in a long time, and it seemed hard for him to stop moving. His eyes were so blue that she almost couldn’t look at them. They sparkled as much as the water.

Whatever he said first she didn’t understand and she wondered if he was stupid or if she was. Maybe dying messed up her brain. She was sure she was thinking in run on sentences and it was getting confusing but it still made sense.

If that made sense.

When he tried again he managed to say, “I’m sorry?”

“I said, who are you?”

He looked at her, stared, and then to his feet. Brow furrowed; it was taking a lot of brain power, apparently.

“Have you been dead for a long time?” So long he’d forgotten who he was.

He nodded, another slow movement. “Yes, but that’s not why I’m hesitating.”

“Are you,” she paused, “slow,” she paused again, “about,” wait for it, “everything?”

Thin lips pursed. “No.”

“Oh. Okay, then. I don’t have to talk slow for you?”

He still didn’t seem to know what was going on, but that was alright because she didn’t know either, and he shook his head.

“I died falling out a window, my mother, her name’s, well was, Pink, dropped me. She didn’t do it to kill me, you see, she was trying to save me and there were a lot of people down there so you’d have thought someone would have caught me, but they must not have. I guess I hit the sidewalk outside the building. I did see Pink die though. I don’t think she saw me die. That’s for the best. She was real sad about everything. How’d you die?” Actually, she was sad too, but she didn’t mention it.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

More blinking, but he answered, “Everything exploded.”

“Oh, Pink exploded, too. I think a lot of the building went with her. Maybe that’s why I died. Maybe they meant to catch me, but they all had to duck and cover or else die themselves.”

He was eyeing her, like he didn’t know what he was supposed to say or do.

“Well, I won’t burden you with me,” she said. “I can stay here, looking at the fake water for a while if you want to keep going. Where are you going?” She climbed down from the railing to stand in front of him. He was very tall. “Wait a minute,” she saw something on the road. Something that had definitely not been there before.

He reached for her as she darted around him and straight into non-existent traffic, but she was too fast to catch.

To the ground she dropped, bending at the knees, to inspect the item. A pen.

An Ink Pen.

“Fuck you!” she shouted, startling the man as she took the pen and hurled it, with all her little girl strength, past him to sail over the rail and to the water.

There was no splash.

“It’s still... there.”

She looked down. “Indeed it is.”

She picked it up and put it in her pocket. It couldn’t stay there, that was for sure.

He didn’t look as surprised by the whole thing as she thought he should. “Do you know Ink Pen, too?”

His eyes deadened, losing all the spark they ever had. “Yes.”

Somehow, she didn’t think he would say any more about that, but she asked, “Is it this one?” she held it out toward him.

“No.”

“There’s more than one?!” That was alarming as heck.

He walked past her and she followed, “For as many universes as there are, there is a... An Ink Pen for each.”

“There’s more than one universe?”

Ahead of them, where she thought there would be the other side of the bridge, was instead a park. He looked at her, but she didn’t notice. There were swings here and it had been a long time since she’d used one of those.

“I don’t need help,” she informed him as she clambered onto the plastic seat. “I can swing myself.”

But he stood behind her and pushed and said, “Sometimes, it’s nice to have help.”

She thought he needed help more than she did, since he seemed so lonely.

“My name is Luna. What’s yours?”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Oh, right. You said it’s been a long time.”

“It has.”

She waited a while, let him push her forward, and thought of what his name should be. Mr. Snow didn’t sound right. It sounded like a name for a teacher and he wasn’t one of those. He was someone who’d been dead for so long he forgot his name, but didn’t look it. He must’ve died young. He hardly looked older than Pink.

“What will happen to Pink?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her here and I think I’ve been here for a long time.”

“Maybe not so long,” he said. “If you keep waiting you might see her. But she won’t see you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Pink comes, she’ll be walking and she’ll keep walking. She will take the straight path. She won’t see you or me or anyone else. She won’t even know she’s on the bridge.”

“Where will she be going?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You haven’t gone there?”

“No. I can’t go.” He hesitated again, then said, “Neither can you.”

“Why not?”

“Because we aren’t like them. Wherever they’re going we cannot follow. I’ve tried countless times.”

He forgot to push and she let the swing stop.

“Well, just because you can’t doesn’t mean I can’t.” She crossed her arms and bit her lip. “That’s dumb.”

He remembered her and smiled sadly. “It does sound that way, doesn’t it?” He looked back to the bridge. “We can wait and see.”

So, they did.