ThursThreads, week 94


I reached into the open chest cavity, trying to remember my training and forget that the subject at hand wasn’t some random cadaver dug up from the cemetery, but, until recently, the living, breathing love of my life.

The lungs had always been my nemesis – they were so fragile, and so important not to damage. “They feel like velvet, or silk,” my instructor had said, but the lungs of someone who’d been dead for days never felt like that to me.

Tonight, however, I could feel it. I thought of the gown she’d worn on our first date, and the gossamer wings which had spread out ethereally in the moonlight. I eased aside her lungs and found my prize. Her heart, placed in a magical stasis for the exam, was still warm, but unmoving. Blood did not pump through her body, and if I didn’t restart it soon, I would lose more than my place in the college of physikers.

Closing my eyes, I imagined the beats, the charge the body gave to the heart, and began waving my fingers in the rhythmic pattern I’d been taught. The magic came to my fingertips, and with a shudder, her back arched and she came back to life.

I pulled my hand from her chest and watched as the wounds closed up. With a nod from my professor, I leaned down and kissed her cheek to awaken her, the now-undead recipient of my undying love.


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