Her shaking hand picked up her pen and she began to draw. Ink drew from her veins as she poured her heart across the paper, her blood seeping into the fibres. She fell into a trance where time passed her by fluently like the Scottish winds in her air when she wandered aimlessly at 3AM.
Nothing usually happened at 3AM, it was only once or twice that she heard the shattering of glass, those muffled screams of faded gunshots from across the city. Perhaps a whisper from the wind occurs often, for her at least, the voices of those who stood before her, leaving messages to transcend for someone to find, like dragonflies carrying messages between worlds. She felt the boundaries of this realm and beyond, she was in between, one of the outsiders – they whispered to her often.
He knew as soon as he laid eyes on her that she saw beyond the edge of the world. He saw that not only the physical here touched her; he knew the spirits called for her.
Occasionally he would find her sitting on the windowsill leaning out, the wind pulling her hair to the sky, holding her, energising her, as though sleep was never a necessary evil to her. “Darling, come back to bed, are you all right…?”
She remained silent for a few moments before looking back to him with a glimmer in her eyes, “yes, I will soon, they’re calling me again.”