A glass of water appeared in her hand. She stood up, cradling my body for me, and held the glass to my lips. I drank carefully. Then she laid me back into the bed and smoothed the sheet over my body again.

She watched me, allowing me to settle my thoughts, before she spoke again.

"So, where was I? Oh, yes. Ripples. I would really, truly enjoy watching those ripples from both of you. But the problem is, I have one working soul: yours. And one working body: hers. I can't send her soul back to her body, and I can't send your soul back to your body. So we're left with one working solution."

She sat back, looking quite pleased with herself. She let me figure out the rest on my own.

"You want to send me back into her body?"

"Exactly!" she said, beaming. "It's a good body. Slightly bruised of late, but bruises heal. She's troubled, and you'll inherit those troubles. You'll have her memories, and I'll leave you some of your own. I can't let you take too many details with you; leaving you with the temptation to contact people from your old life is far too cruel. And I hope you can embrace this new life rather than pine for the old one."

"You're talking as if I have a choice."

"Of course you do," she told me. "I never send a soul to Earth if it doesn't want to go."

I considered for a moment. "Can I ask some questions first?"

"You want to know why I allow evil in the world."

It was my turn to smile. "Of course I do, but I can figure that out on my own."

She laughed, and it was if the heavens laughed with her. I suppose they did. "I gave you all brains," she said finally. "I do so love when you actually use them."

She sat, chuckling to herself for a few more moments, then quieted down and waited for me to ask my questions.

"Why me?" I asked simply.

"Oh, so many reasons," she said. "But at the core of them is this: you have such a strong sense of right and wrong, and it all comes from within yourself. You don't need me or anyone else to tell you what's right and what's wrong. I love this about you."

I considered what she said. She was right, I guess. I hadn't lived my life worrying so much about what others thought was right and what was wrong, but I decided myself. "What about when I'm at a disagreement with the religious leaders?"

"Ah, the people who profess to speak for me, who know what I like and what I don't?"

I nodded.

"Take those people with a grain of salt," she said simply.

"One more question?" I asked. She nodded. "My dog?"

"Your brother."

At that point, I started to cry. "Hush, hush," she said, patting my hand. "Your brother is going to grow to love your dog."

"I know," I said, blubbering. "He's good with dogs. I was just afraid no one would take her in."

She crawled into the bed with me, cradling me in her arms, rocking back and forth and making soothing noises.

"I'm sorry," I said after a time. "I shouldn't be this upset."

"It's hard to give up everything you once knew," she replied. She continued to rock me as a mother would a young child. As I calmed down, she laid me back into the bed and slipped into her chair again. I dried my eyes with the sheet. She smiled.

"So what do you want me to do when I go back?"

"Be yourself," she said. "Would you like some advice?"

I nodded.

She raised one finger. "Don't talk about any of this."

"They'll think I'm mad."

"Exactly." She raised another finger. "Follow your heart." She raised a third finger. "Trust your instincts." She waggled her fingers at me. "Remember, help is sometimes found in unexpected places."

She continued to waggle her fingers, almost in a wave, and I felt myself slipping away from her. But then she spoke again, and it was is if she were whispering directly into my ear.

"One last thing," she said. "I surely do enjoy reading your stories."

I remember my last thought as everything disappeared.

God likes my stories?.

Pulled to the Dark.

Copyright 2012 by Julia P. Lynde.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

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