A Spirit's Bliss

The rising sun lit up the village as if it were on fire, the busy spirits running about like ants to begin the day's task. Isaac was already at his position, leaning his head against the nearest post of the long, narrow wooden bridge. Most of the others had had a pleasant sleep throughout the night, but not him; he had been instructed to take their newest spirit to the station of peace and wait outside until the spirit found his bliss. Isaac shivered, resting the staff beside him so that his arms could provide little cover from the morning chill. Not being able to go in for himself but wait in the cold while the spirit visited what Isaac knew by only the rumors was the real reason he had not had any rest. He remembered the first and only time he had been allowed to enter. For him it had been but an empty room. The shock on the others' faces had startled him; he had no understanding as to what he was meant to see. Apparently, he was not even supposed to still be with them. He had been meant to enter their world, been taken to a sacred place, and simply vanish. Yet here he remained, eight years, four months, and thirteen days later. It seemed more like an eternity to Isaac.

He remembered what the elders had told him after he first begged them to allow him to go back inside the place and try again. He would have tried however often it took to find the bliss. Yet they had all told him the same thing. It was up to him to receive the bliss now; they could do no more but wait. If one evening when the sun had set and he was not walking up the bridge back to his home for the night, they would know he had found the bliss. He would have disappeared and that would have been the last of him.

Eight odd years of playing the other spirits' guard between the worlds had hardened him-not that he ever once was without something similar to the bitterness which had begun to consume him. Pain, guilt, agony, sorrow-everyone knew them, yet Isaac was the one spirit who could not leave them for a forever of denying anything less than perfect. He could not after all he had done in another life. The other spirits who watched over the newcomers were destined for this role; when the last mortal died, they would be given the highest bliss for their long wait. Isaac had once asked the leader of this village of such spirits if he was one of them-if that was why he did not indeed vanish like everyone was expecting. He did not understand how the elder knew, but Isaac was meant for a third life of peace somewhere much farther away; yet somehow, he could not leave his second.

Isaac watched as the sun kissed his home hello again, smiling to himself as he heard every voice in the village hurrying or demanding or some other such annoyance. He always was the only one to give the dawn time and silence. This was as close as peace could be for him. Then again, the others had things to do, things to prepare for any new spirits who would be lost or wandering or simply in need to find their bliss. They did not have the luxury of sitting quietly and watching the boundary's natural joy and beauty; Isaac decided the land nearest the bridge was always the calmest as well.

This morning seemed different somehow. He noticed the breeze picking up, causing the rest of the earth surrounding Isaac to do the same. The trees made him dizzy as he swayed with them, perfect leaves embracing their friend. He sighed at the thought, knowing it was true. He was closer to the woodland surrounding him and the beginning of the bridge than he was to any of the spirits. They all were wary of him, not one being able to speak with their guard without a lack of trust or with concern to help him attain his bliss. 
He guessed the main reason for this-besides, of course, the fact that he did not vanish-was because only nature could know his touch. Several of the spirits had made friendly attempts or collided with the guard, yet it was as if they were mortal and he the only spirit; only the flowers and grass and wind did not go through him. He was more like the fading breeze than anything else; yet he could not leave, even when the trees became still and the rustle of leaves ceased.

Isaac groaned against the cold. The one thing he regretted of his first life was not being better dressed for winter when he died. At least now, perhaps he could retrieve his lost sleep-until, of course, a new spirit awoke him and asked for directions to his peace and bliss; this was a very stable cycle, except for when the spirit did not believe his time should have come so early. Then Isaac would be forced to escort him to the spirits' leader, Condon, so that he could then explain to the poor creature he had lived as long as he was meant. 

He shut his eyes, placing the staff atop his knees as he tucked them below his chin. Isaac had not dreamt in over eight years. His reality-if one could call his nightmare truly that-had drained his mind of thoughts of whimsy and wonder. Now all that awaited him was an interruption to sleep before he would again retire, only to awake and again play guard.

Something in Isaac's mind told him to wake, yet he did not give it any heed until the staff was suddenly being thrust against his chest. He awoke with a start, standing in nearly an instant with the staff held secure and aiming over his surroundings. He dropped it, startling himself even more as it sounded with a gentle thud, a young woman-or spirit in this case-on her knees and with her head in her hands. She had tripped over the staff and barely fell onto the bridge, but she had reached it. Isaac breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe now-as was any spirit who immediately collapsed onto it for guidance and comfort; the longer a new spirit stayed on the forest ground, the more difficult connecting with his-or now her-peace became. He studied her carefully, straining silently to hear the muffled noises she spoke into her palms. When Isaac realized they were the sounds of a girl's weeping, he felt her sadness within his chest. This at first worried him before frightening the guard, for Isaac had vowed since his rejection from bliss that no spirit would receive better from him than it bestowed. He decided this was nothing more than his sympathy for a beauty's sorrow. Which life he was in was of no regard-when a female shed her tears before him, Isaac had little hope of not becoming her slave until she was content and left him to simply be hurt again. Yet he would always remain that way, despite the count of her returns to his comfort; a woman's burden both demanded his attention and acted as a poison.

Isaac hesitantly, cautiously joined the girl where she wept. "Why are you crying?" he whispered, without thinking placing a hand to her back. They both gasped and drew back from one another, the woman startled by his presence while Isaac was simply stunned she had felt his touch. She was the first in a long time; he would treasure her tremble beneath his skin lest another such spirit never crossed his path. The feel of her shiver would hopefully be able to keep him whole for several more years. "I-I touched you!" Isaac breathed in amazement. She did not seem as pleased.

She stared, slowly inching farther away despite his outstretched hand beckoning her nearer. "You are safe here," he continued, his voice soft and a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. "Nothing can hurt or scare you again." The spirit still seemed dumbfounded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand before others could cloud her hazel eyes. "Why were you running?" he asked, not realizing he was still reaching for her until she slapped his hand away. The sharp tingle which accompanied the quick contact was just as pleasing as the warm shudder beneath his palm.

Gingerly, she rose, her eyes on him and the staff. Her hands held in front of her as she began to back away on the bridge, she tried to find the ability to speak again between sobs. "Who are you?" She wiped her sleeve against her tear-stained face. "Where is he?" Her voice become hoarser during her final question.

Isaac did not understand why she seemed so afraid-of him of all sprits! The others did not know what to make of him, yet surely a newcomer could not realize so quickly he was different; although, she was the first to receive his touch since the beginning of his second life. He wondered if she felt him as well. Isaac hoped she did; perhaps she even did not mind-besides the slap, of course. He grinned at the idea, knowing she was likely terrified now as his response to her frantic questions was a smirk. Isaac could not help it-after eight years of nearly nothing, he finally had something in common with one of these spirits; he was not about to allow this to be their last encounter.

Each time he took a step toward her, she would take one back. Finally he ceased the challenge, nodding his silent agreement; he watched the hint of relief appear in her visage. He knew she was trying to decide whether or not he was worth her trust. "Where is who, spirit?" He noticed she was still eyeing the staff; offering her an apologetic smile, he gently laid it between them. Isaac convinced himself to try one more time-if this did not prove successful, he would simply have to live knowing her touch for but a moment rather than the amount of time he desired. He held out his hand one final time, nodding toward her then it in hopes she would understand his gestures far better than she did his words.

Her gaze not leaving his dark eyes, she took it reluctantly. His grin broadening, Isaac, held her grasp within his own, mesmerized by how she shook even in his grip; it only made the sensations shooting from their entwining fingers to his entire visage that much more stirring. "Why do you fear me, spirit?" he whispered, his touch trickling down her hand to her wrist. He could not help himself as her sleeve suddenly became too much of a hindrance for his travel, the girl scrutinizing his act then pleased reaction when her countenance showed signs of her being already too familiar with his stroke. He either did not seem to care or failed to realize what it meant.

She turned away, not bothering to reclaim her arm. "Where am I?" she sobbed, her eyes scanning past him and to the surrounding woods. Everything seemed like a dream, the brightly colored fallen leaves all about but where they stood. She looked toward the rickety looking bridge behind her. Its boards creaked as the trees swayed under the heavy, growing wind's strength. All but everything around them was still and silent. She did not mind the earth's noise or forceful breeze, returning her gaze to his stare; she had known him for but a moment, and all he seemed to do was stare.

She gasped as he lessened the gap between them. "Somewhere safe, spirit. I will not hurt you. No one will hurt you while you are here."

"While I am where?" she cried in growing exasperation.

He grinned at her frustration. She was as beautiful when she feared him as she was when he annoyed her. "The world between life and bliss."

It was the woman's turn to stare. "Between life and-" she stopped suddenly. "Then I am not in the world of the living?" Her voice was softest yet and it troubled him.

Still, she was taking this rather well. "No, beautiful spirit," he whispered, frowning to show he understood her fear and confusion and wanted nothing more than to give her his sympathy. "No more. You-you died." Usually Isaac did not stutter, but usually he was not so drawn to a spirit. Especially one he could touch! He looked down to see his thumb still caressing her soft skin. She swallowed hard then nodded once. "You do not seem very surprised," he continued slowly.

"Feeling a knife go inside you is like feeling thousands of little needles sticking you everywhere until you cry out to feel no more. I am more surprised that you are-" She studying him carefully before swiping at the final tears clinging to her eyes. "Who are you?"

He ignoring her answer to his wondering of how she had died. "My name is Isaac," he hurried, flashing his broadest smile and bowing in a long, sweeping gesture. She was surprised he still held her hand as tightly. He obviously would not be letting go anytime soon. "I am the spirit guard who watches over this bridge. Every spirit must cross over it first before he or she can begin to find their bliss. I escort those spirits over this bridge."

"What is the bliss?"

He was fascinated by her pout, watching as her free had brushed once again over her red and swelling eyes. "Please do not cry," he sighed. She held her breath as his fingers stroked the skin where tears had fallen and left their trails. "Some call it Heaven," he continued, his focus only on her softness. "but that is a rather vague term I think. The bliss-it is supposed to be only a place of only peace and goodness." He shrugged his shoulders in ending of his short, obscure explanation.

She was silent for a long moment. "Supposed to be?" she repeated after him.

Isaac nodded and offered her a sheepish smile. "That is what they tell me."

"Do you not know yourself, Isaac?"

He felt like a fool, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sound of a woman using his name. All the women spirits stayed away from him lest his peculiarity and inability to find his bliss was catching. He wished he did not have to escort her to her bliss just yet. "No, I-I have never seen it. They say-that is, the elder spirits say-that everyone's bliss is different. Yet all I see is the walls of the cabin where the bliss is supposed to be held for the recently dead to pass through." Isaac had rushed through this as well. He never liked explaining the bliss. It only reminded him he had never seen it and perhaps never would.

She tucked her long, black hair behind an ear and brushed the rest behind her shoulders. He gasped at the sight the sudden, nonchalant movement had revealed. Isaac had guessed she had forgotten about it. All spirits slowly began forgetting their deaths the longer they stayed in the middle world. All except for him. He pressed his other hand to her chest, ignoring her startled jump. "You were stabbed in the heart?" He had not meant for his voice to be so low, but he had never felt such pity for another spirit before. After over eight years of being a guard, he was surprised he still had any pity left inside of him for anyone but himself.

She shook her head slowly. "If only he had." She met his gaze again, her hesitant stare softening by his frown. "I was mugged on my way home. The man was slightly older than I but so much bigger. I tried to fight-" She pulled up her sleeves after he reluctantly released her. His own chest felt as if it had been stabbed at the sight of the shallow slashes all about her thin arms. "but he overpowered me. He missed my heart, sadly, and the death was so painful. It was so slow I-"

Isaac surprised them both as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. "No more, beautiful spirit. You are safe here. You need not remember what happened. Just know you are in a better place." His soothing words were whispers, his hands dragging up and down her back.

"Victoria." He leaned out slowly from his embrace. His brow raised, she smiled for the first time. It was more beautiful than he could have imagined. "My name is Victoria," she answered his questioning, distracted gaze. "You do not need to call me beautiful spirit." 
He returned her smile. "Victoria," he breathed. "Beautiful Victoria then."

"How did you die, Isaac?" she asked innocently.

Her curiosity was endearing, yet not enough so that he would spill his soul. Isaac shook his head solemnly. "You do not want to hear about that."

"Yes, I do." She pressed a hand to his cheek. "I do not know why, but I am drawn to you, Isaac. Please do not keep things from me. I-I know we have only now met, but-"

Her wish was his command. "My little sister-she went out on walk one day when a snowstorm was forming. I ran after her, but the storm was already too great for my sight and I became lost as well. I wondered for four days looking for her, but four days was all my body could stand. The only good thing that came out of that was my sister. She is still alive. I know she is, not just because I feel it, but because I have not seen her in all my years as guard."

The spirit suddenly threw her arms around him and held him against her. "I feel it too, Isaac."

He could not help but wrap her in an embrace of his own. It was nice to hold someone. It was wonderful. He looked past her and the bridge in response to the sudden commotion he heard. It was growing louder. He cursed himself silently, forgetting that the elders sensed when a new spirit came. He had never kept them waiting this long. "I-you need to cross the bridge, Victoria," Isaac began slowly.

He saw a new panic in her eyes after his gaze returned to hers. "Will you not go with me, Isaac? I will be afraid to go without a friend." It was her turn to grasp his hand in desperation. He shook his head again and opened his mouth to explain, yet she would not allow it. "Oh, please, Isaac!" she cried. "I do not want to be alone! Please stay with me! You said you escorted the spirits-why will you not escort me?"

"I-that is different," Isaac tried.

"No! How am I different from all the others?" He shook his head one last time. Words failed him, though it was just as well. Had they not, surely his voice would have been difficult to muster as well. Isaac realized too late he could also feel what she was feeling, a quick glance of forming, hurting tears his only warning before she threw his hand down and turned on her heels.

"Victoria, wait! Please-please, Victoria!" She ran as fast as she could, having no fear as the old bridge swayed or concern for the spirit pleading behind her. He had taken what was left of her heart. Isaac thrust his fists at his sides as he watched her form begin to disappear halfway over the bridge. For a moment he saw her glow like all the other spirits who crossed the halfway mark, entering the side of the spirit world; then she was gone. Yet she was unlike any other spirit-not just because he had touched her. She had touched him.

Isaac wondered if he still could feel her, his breathing becoming heavier and his eyes beginning to sting. "Victoria," he whispered after her. "I-I could watch you leave me too. " He ignored the staff and followed her.

Finally he reached the other end, stepping off it in time to see her stumbling out where the bliss was supposedly contained. He felt guilt for his broad grin, yet not enough to make him want to hide it. She came out of it. She did not disappear inside and leave him like all the others had. Victoria saw him at the same time he noticed her, running into him with all her might. "The others-" she sobbed into his chest, throwing her arms around his neck. The new spirit breathed a sigh of relief as his embrace continued and snaked around her waist. "They say I was not supposed to come out, but-but I did. You said you did as well. What happens now, Isaac?" He could hardly breath again, her emotions becoming a part of him.

He hushed her gently and buried his face in her crown. He tried to ignore the advancing elders and growing murmurs, her weeping demanding all his attention. "I am so sorry I did not bring you her myself," he hurried. "I did not think I could bear you leaving me. You are so different from all the other spirits, Victoria. You are the first I have touched. I cannot lose you too."
She looked up in confusion to see the crowd growing thinner as spirits began to disperse. They had overheard his apology, and it frightened them all. They had never before imagined sheltering a spirit such as Isaac-two of them could mean trouble or even danger for them and spirits to come. As the lesser spirits trickled away from the center of attention, the elders came closer.

Condon was the only one of the eight to speak up. "It is true," he said to no one in particular in disbelief. "Look! Look, everyone! Neither go through the other; she embraces him as well."

Isaac was not about to take a chance. He thrust her behind him, their fingers locked. They would not be releasing one another for awhile, the elder realized. "Stay back! All of you, stay back!"

Her tears streamed more quickly and furiously, Isaac having to swipe at his own eyes before getting to hers. He could not help but wonder why his feelings also did not rule her. The guard's simple act in hopes to prevent his own tears was immediately caught by Condon. " They are joined," he breathed.

"I will not let you touch her!"

"I doubt we even could!" another cried. Suddenly the one voice became all eight and Isaac was ushering her back onto the bridge. 
"Isaac, wait!" Condon hurried. "All of you, quiet! There is no need to scare her! We did not scare Isaac, and they are one in the same."

Condon's plea to the others revealed what Isaac had not realized until now he had been harboring. He was not completely sure the feelings were his alone. "No, but you excluded me! You banish me to the bridge from dawn to dusk! What do you expect to do to her?"

"This spirit-"

"Victoria!" the guard interrupted. "Her name is Victoria."

Condon held up his hands as he took a step closer. "She is unlike us-" he tried.

"As am I," Isaac reminded.

The elder nodded once. "No spirit could have known either of you would not find your bliss immediately; and neither of you are meant to stay here. You both are destined to receive the bliss, but no one can know when that is, Isaac. Why, it could take-"

"Eight odd years," the other interrupted. Isaac swallowed hard then heard her gulp behind him. It made him grin. It was about time she felt what he did. His scowl returned when he looked back to the elders. "What should she do until then?" he questioned, remembering what little possibilities he had had when he himself walked out without a bliss.

Condon shrugged and it caused both spirits to glare. "We already know what will not work," he mused. "All I can think is to have her guard the bridge with you. If one evening after the sun has set and she is not-" Isaac paid no attention the Condon's speech. He had heard it once already, and once was enough. He could quote it word for word. They both needed to not return but disappear.

Isaac and Victoria looked at one another for a long moment, the elders quiet as they watched and waited for something to happen or be said. Yet the two simply returned their stares to the bridge and walked hand in hand over it. No one said a word to or followed after them, but allowed these different spirits to be on their silent way.

Isaac picked up the staff with his free hand and laid it to the side as he sat down where he had been when she first tripped over him. She fell to the ground with him, nestling herself inside his embrace. "I am glad I did not go," she whispered suddenly.

"No, Victoria, you-you should have gone," Isaac tried. "Things would be better there. Maybe you can find your bliss soon!"

She shook her head slowly against him. "I wanted to stay with you. I was hoping I would not have to leave you. This is all so new, and I do not want to be without a friend. I do not want to be without you, Isaac. My bliss-it is with you."

Before he realized what he was doing, the older guard pressed a strong kiss to the top of her head. "My bliss is with you, beautiful spirit. You are my bliss, Victoria."

There was not a sound or movement from the end of the bridge for the rest of the day. Evening came and the sun left the spirits for night to follow. By midnight, an elder, Condon, hesitantly crossed the bridge in search for the two very different spirits very similar to only one another. At the end of the bridge, he found the staff and not another trace of either guard-only the feeling of something too wonderful to be described. The only word I can think to call it is bliss.