Positive
by j.Kemble 10

She was dreaming of Frank. the two of them were sitting on the beach, looking at a big orange moon. The night was clear, and the air cool. All the stars were falling from the sky; white and silver streamers. She felt like love, and looked into his endless blue eyes. he brushed a lock of hair from her face. She could hear beautiful music riding the night breeze. "Hold me..." she whispered to him. Frank leaned over and whispered into her ear. She thought he whispered "I love you..." but it sounded more like a child crying.
Sally sat up in her bed, her baby was crying again. She rubbed her eyes and instinctively glanced at the alarm clock; red digits glowing from the night-stand beside the bed, 2:30am. She stumbled quickly down the hall to escape her sleepiness and into her son's room.
"Hush child, it's going to be okay." She leaned down in the dark and softly picked up her infant son. He felt warm, and damp: feverish. She held him, and rocked him, and wiped away the sweat with her hands. A small night light glowed alone in the corner. A final star, afraid to fall, she thought, a single candle holding vigilant over their baby, vainly driving off the shadows of the night. She exposed her breast and fed him. She thought about Frank ...and her dream, and their plans. "Forever..." She whispered, "I promise..."
A tear ran from her eye, down her cheek and disappeared into the dark. She wanted to follow it, she wanted to die. She felt weak. She sat in the night rocking her son: "I'm sorry Frank..." her tears washed with her memories and made a sad kind of music.
Sally placed her sleeping baby gently to rest in his crib. "It's going to be okay..." she whispered, and kissed the air above his baby pink forehead. "It's going to be okay baby." She sobbed. Then, wiping the tears from her face with her hands, then slowly walked down the hallway and quietly climbed back into bed. She thought about Frank. A great sadness consumed her heart and belly.
"Is everything alright?" asked a man's voice from beside her.
"every-thing's going to be okay." she replied, "now, go back to sleep." But sally couldn't sleep, only think about Frank...

Frank lay in bed, and couldn't get up. The morning sun shone in through the slightly opened window, and touched his cheek. Outside, dew started to evaporate off the yellowing grass, and the trees were dressed in orange and red. A bird was signing. half asleep in his bed, Frank thought he heard his Mother speaking to him, his mother and his lover, a strange mixture of voices that sounded like music. Their voices mingled lazily with dreams and memories. Frank could see sally's face. She was smiling and giggling. He tried to focus on her, but she was blurry, and there was a big, cloudless blue sky behind her, throwing off his sense of perspective...
He was laying outside on his back on a carpet of spring grass. She was tickling him, giggling. Frank tried to roll over, but was too weak, and his feet got tangled in the bed sheets. Half awake, he tried to free them. He started to breath hard and coughed phlegm from his lungs.
He couldn't move.
A cool spring breeze drifted in through the window, outside, frank could hear children playing. They were running away from him. He started to chase them , running through the grass barefoot, laughing uncontrollably, feeling euphoric. The sun shone down upon his head, making his hair hot, touching his exposed arm. The children ran up a hill, disappeared over the other side.
When Frank got to the top of the hill, he stopped and looked down the other side. He could see his home town down there, not how it looked the last time he saw it, but how it appeared when he was a child. he could clearly see the house he grew up in. He could see his dog playing in the backyard, and his mother was standing on the porch, calling to him. He couldn't quite make out what she was saying, but her voice sounded like music, and he felt content. beautiful music.
"Poor thing." he heard a voice, and felt the tube in his arm. It felt dry and itchy, like a spider. "Let's get this cleaned up..." The voice sounded like his Grandma's, and he could feel her wash the sticky off his face with a warm, damp cloth. Frank wanted to look at his Grandma's face, but he was too tired and comfortable to open his eyes, he was drifting back to sleep. He could feel her cold hand on his forehead, He felt safe at her house. He could smell it, it smelled like roses, dust and medicine. She made him feel love, and loved. She would never let him die, but protect him from death. He remembered his Grandma's funeral. Everything was black, and even the sky cried soft Autumn tears. The trees stood naked, exposed before the great tragedy, he thought, unable to go on.
Frank's body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, it covered his pale flesh. He felt nauseous, dizzy, and when he coughed, vomit escaped his mouth and ran down his cheek. The warmth felt good.
"...not much time left." Frank was late for work again, he had been hanging out with Sally. He could clearly see her face now, and she looked sad. A tear ran from his eye.
"Don't go Frank, stay here and hold me forever..."
She said. He could feel his dog licking his face. He could hear voices and music, beautiful music in the distance. He wondered where it was coming from, but Frank couldn't get out of bed.