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We were young. We were daring. We were madly in love. Like thousands of other curious lovers that unforgettable summer, we walked hand in hand along the Black.
No one knew what the Black was. Those who entered it were in no condition to reveal its secrets. The government tried to keep the thrill seekers away, but the border extended too far. In the end they could only watch as all common sense fled.
I knew we were too close to the edge, but she felt safe with me. I could see it in her lovely green eyes. Nothing could ever happen to her when I was there to protect her.
"I love you," I said to her. She said it at the same time. It was the psychic link we shared.
As we kissed for the last time the kids came out of nowhere. There were six of them. They looked like high school freshmen. They might have been drunk. They might have been on drugs. I don't know. Before I could say anything, they jostled us.
I pray to God it wasn't on purpose.
I looked up. No Sheila. I called out her name. And then I screamed it. Over and over and over again.
What came out of the Black minutes later might have been Sheila. I don't know. Time runs differently in the Black.
I reached out my hand for her. She started to cry. Her mouth opened and her lips moved. Her tongue was forked. Her words were strange.
Hand in hand we went home.
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