Stitch Read Online Free PDF

she swung around the doorway into her room.
    Alessa stopped short.  Standing at the window not ten feet from her was a tall solitary figure, partially cast in shadow.  He was looking out the window, breathing gently, one slim lace up boot perched on the low windowsill, narrow suspenders pulled taut across a broad, flat back and fastened to the narrow waist of his trim brown slacks.  Lost in his own thoughts, he gazed pensively across the expanse of the lawn, his chin perched gently upon the knuckles of his left fist, white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow.  She could see the muscles in his forearm flex as he clenched and unclenched his hand.
    Alessa stifled the urge to scream as adrenaline rushed through her body.  Panic threatened to overtake her as blood throbbed through her temples, her muscles tensing for action.  But she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, so she just stood still, watching.
    He was contemplative, as usual, gazing through the window but not focused on anything in particular.  He dropped his left arm and ruffled a hand through the short waves of his soft brown hair.  His skin was pale, but not the pallid color of sickness, more the luminous porcelain of mid-winter.
    Alessa’s body refused to calm, her insides churning as she fought the mayhem stirring in her chest.  Terror mixed with agony, her heart sinking with each beat, overwhelmed with an aching sorrow she couldn’t explain.  But at the same time, she felt the firm tug of a powerful longing, the depths of which she’d never experienced before.  She couldn’t have torn her eyes from him if she’d tried.
    His image glowed faintly, the lines of the windowpane just barely visible through his semi-translucent form.  For a moment, his head inclined in her direction and she could see the gleam of one sea blue eye above a strong, straight nose and thin pale rose lips.
    Transfixed by his face, Alessa couldn’t get a grip on her emotions.  She was frightened and anxious, every impulse in her body telling her to run.  But at the same time she felt strangely drawn to him, and she knew she couldn’t have forced her feet to move even if she’d wanted to.  She was frozen in place, powerless to act, waves of anguish washing over her, drowning.  And on top of all this, that ever-present, searing longing that rooted her in place despite her best instincts towards self-preservation.  How did this strange apparition invoke such turmoil in her?
    Alessa knew somewhere inside that she needed to connect with the ghost, needed to break through the barrier that separated them, but she didn’t know how.  The only thing she could think to do was speak, but what would she say?  How could she start?  And did he even know she was there?  How would he react to her intrusion?
    Alessa was building the courage to try to communicate when the ghost began to fade.  It started with the hazy glow around him, which grew strong for a moment then rapidly drew inward, erasing his presence as it went.  Alessa thought she saw a small flicker and then the form was gone.
    She gasped for air; she didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath.  The entire encounter had only lasted a few seconds, maybe ten at the most, but she was overcome with exhaustion.  Her heart was still pounding and she was trembling from her fingertips to her toes.
    Worse, her entire mental state was in shambles.  Alessa didn’t understand the tumultuous emotions that had hammered through her and she was still reeling from the experience.  Seeing the ghost was thrilling, but it was also alarming and strange, and it shook her straight to her core.  That was a normal enough reaction to this kind of situation, but there was something else, too, something specific to this ghost.
    Her attraction to him was magnetic, and it went beyond her natural curiosity.  And yes, he was an incredibly appealing guy – the kind she would have pined over in high school – but it was more than that