Free The Sphere by Martha Faë Page A

and harmonious that the lack of eyes isn’t unsettling. I stand up in slow motion, my whole body trembling, out of my control. I’m still sobbing, tears everywhere. The woman embraces me. I feel the touch of wood, just like with the gypsy, but this is different—warm in spite of its stiffness.
    “Are you lost?” asks the woman, with incredible tenderness.
    I nod my head yes and then shake my head no. I know where I am, at least in theory... Shit! I’ve never felt so lost!
    “If you tell me a little about yourself, I shall try to help you. Perhaps I know where you are supposed to live... I am Beatrice. What is your name?”
    “Eurydice,” I answer weakly.
    “Have you just been published?”
    I don’t know what to say.
    “I see, I see, don’t fret. You may be a reprint of our Eurydice, though I do not think so.” The woman brings her kind face close to mine to inspect me. “No, no, not a reprint. Why are you here?” I dry my eyes with the back of my hand and look at her, disconcerted. “This is not your place.”
    “I know.”
    “Where do you live?”
    I point in the direction of our summer house and then think of what happened last night. I open my mouth and close it again without making a sound, and let my arm fall. It all seems pointless.
    “Would you like some tea? I’m quite sure that will make you feel better. Let me make a suggestion: we’ll go to my house, have some tea, and then together we shall try and find out where you’re meant to live.”
    This woman makes me feel safe, makes me feel calmer even in this surreal situation. Unlike every other time in my life, I don’t feel any doubt. An internal voice tells me that this woman is a guide. The guide. I ignore my second internal voice, the one that says stop thinking crazy thoughts right this instant. A guide without eyes? A total stranger? But the woman radiates a halo of calm and kindness that I just can’t explain. It’s... it’s like she’s some kind of angel. I start walking, my arm in hers. She treats me warmly, like a friend, and the soft touch of her wooden arm eases the cold I feel inside. I look at her out of the corner of my eye. Her form is balanced; her wood has been polished until it’s perfectly smooth. But sanity is about to win the struggle in my mutant brain. In another second I’ll decide to go off on my own...
    “Why are you crying?” she asks in her gossamer voice.
    I don’t answer. Actually, we’ve been walking for a while without speaking, but that doesn’t seem to bother Beatrice. She walks gracefully, accepting my silence as an answer. She emits some kind of soothing force. I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like something very pure, as if nothing bad could happen as long as I’m near her. I feel like she might be a heavenly guide... okay, I’m rambling.
    “Who are you?” I ask suddenly.
    “Beatrice,” she answers, smiling. 
    “No, I mean... I don’t know. Why did you come over and talk to me? Why did you invite me to your house?”
    “You were crying.”
    “But you don’t know me.”
    “A good reason to invite you for tea, don’t you think? Tea is always a good start to a friendship.”
    Beatrice nods her head elegantly and her light veil ripples in the wind, which is finally growing gentler. Like I said, she’s some kind of wooden angel.
    “Nobody’s helped me until now.”
    I say it even though I know it’s not exactly true. They’ve all sought out my company, the clowns, the gypsy... how different from when I was alive!
    ...Enough! Enough of this crap! I guess my silent shout made me grimace, because Beatrice is looking at me.
    “Did they not welcome you properly?”
    I can’t bring myself to say that everyone I’ve met since the accident has been perfectly polite, it’s just that they were also terrifying. I’m sorry, but I’m not used to empty eye sockets. Beatrice gives my shoulders a comforting squeeze.
    “Everything will be all right,” she tells me with a smile.
    As