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The most challenging part of my current WIP is crafting a life…er, afterlife for one of my protagonists. Lenora is pure light and emotion. Fleur and the other spirits scattered through the manuscript can only see a slight impression of her former self. She has no heart to pound or breath to quicken. Excitement, love and fear still overwhelm her, so I used light to describe the tangle of emotions swirling around her. Lenora is like a firefly, brightening, flickering, fading and beaming her brilliant aura over everyone — to Fleur’s irritation.

Here’s a peek at her death… I mean, introduction 🙂

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Twenty-four hours earlier, in a different wing of that same greenhouse, beyond the gruesome stench of the Corpse Flower, I slumped against the back of a wooden bench. My head lulled, hair damp and plastered to my brow, skin swollen and gray. It might have been the stench that gave me away, the putrid odor of death. Not even an orchid’s heady fragrance could mask.

My lungs, their faulty lace unable to withstand the poison’s onslaught, tightened. I wheezed, sucking in air and releasing it in the same breath as I struggled to remain whole. My stunted gasps echoed in my ears, loud and intrusive, until nothing else mattered.

My body laid limp and cold in the greenhouse’s warmth until some poor janitor on the night shift found me. He shrieked. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound—second only to the agony of my soul ripping from flesh. Fabric torn by unseen hands. I know I screamed, but the sound was lost.

I hovered over us, watching as he regained his confidence and pressed two fingers to my neck. He stumbled back, shaking, and pulled his phone from the pocket of his green jumpsuit.

Next came the bevy of coroners and inspectors. They poked, prodded and photographed me, recorded my death on their tablets, and speculated, searching for answers, and found none.

I watched with a morbid fascination reserved for voyeurism. Not realizing I was watching myself. That this was real, not just some horrible nightmare. I lifted my arms to steady myself against the greenhouse’s shelving, but couldn’t grasp it. My energy fizzled and sparked as it passed through the metal. I inhaled sharply, but instead of the deep swell of air in my chest — light, bright and unyielding filled the room, unseen but for me. Instead of a heartbeat, luminescence flickered softly like a lightbulb at the end of its life. I laughed bitterly, relieved I could still hear the echo of my voice in my ears.

The coroner and a medic lifted my body onto a gurney. My light flickered faster. Colored rays fluttered around me like cards in a bike’s spokes.

NO. I screamed. Don’t go, I’m not finished yet!

I have purpose. This wasn’t over — it couldn’t be the end. I struggled as my every awareness crumbled. I watched my body roll away, realizing that in mere minutes, I would remember nothing.