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Lizzy's POV

Something odd has happened to me for the first time in decades.

My silver wolf charm is gone.

I don't understand. Why would it choose to come off now? When I attempted to take off the symbol before it wouldn't budge, and trying to take off the bracelet yielded me the same result. In an attempt to think somewhat logically, I take in the information I have.

I lost my red poppy when I died.

I lost my silver wolf when meeting that guy.

Maybe the inkling I've had all these years is true, that it really is this bracelet that caused everything. I don't know, maybe paranoia is getting to me. After all, I just talked to an adult for the first time in thirty-seven years. It's quite a hurdle in my un-dead life. Something suddenly rushes to the front of my mind.

My sister's angel charm.

When she died she did not hover like I did. The same with my parents. In fact, I was "holding" my father's hand as he died and I did not even glimpse one part of his spirit.

It's me, and these charms, that keep me stuck on Earth.

On impulse, I tug on the bracelet as if it would finally come off after all these years. I stop once I realize my foolishness. Obviously, I have to do something in order to get it off.

Or maybe I'm just crazy and have too much time on my hands so I'm making these senseless conspiracies up.

Well, I have nothing better to do. So I might as well amuse myself with this. Maybe each one symbolizes something. An angel's wing is obvious. It must either mean freedom, heaven, or whatever happens after death.

I have no clue what the red flower and wolf mean. Perhaps it means that man is evil and trying to get me!

Or maybe I read the Three Little Pigs and Little Red Riding Hood too much as a child. Are wolves really sly? I thought that was coyotes. In nursery rhymes wolves are sly and evil.

I groan, clutching my head and plopping down on the ground to stare at the sky. Streaks of pink and orange decorate it, but I've seen the sunset and sunrise enough that it doesn't distract me. When you don't sleep you suddenly have a lot of time on your hands. I give up when I finally admit I won't know until the last charm falls off if I'm right. I can't look it up in a book, or attempt to use the intranet or whatever it's called. I can't research it, the only person that could is a live human and it's not like I can go up to the next kid that sees me and tell them to look all this stuff up.

Wait, that man from earlier.

Maybe that's why he is important. Maybe the wolf symbolizes his ability to help me. I can talk to him, and if I'm nice enough I might be able to convince him to look all this stuff up for me. With a firm direction in mind, I race back to the bench where we were sitting.

But he's gone.

I sigh, attempting to kick at the sand. My foot goes straight through it of course. It's odd that I can sit down on things, but cannot touch them. But then this reality is quite different from anything I'd ever heard of before.

I remember when I first died I thought maybe if I went back into my body my spirit would finally go to rest. But when I laid upon that casket that held my lifeless corpse, nothing happened. I was still dead, and could still see all the weird creatures floating around.

Maybe all of this is a coincidence. After all, maybe the flower fell of before I actually died. Maybe that guy wasn't the reason the wolf fell off. I don't know for sure if he is the reason since I'm not sure if I had the charm during or after our talk.

He's so pushy.

After my happiness of being able to have a mature conversation ended, I began to feel annoyance. He looked like the type of guy I would have avoided in life. He had this self-assured curve to his lips, almost a smirk, and when he asked me questions it was demanded as if I had no choice but to answer. I didn't like that at all. It's nice to be confident, but he pushes the limits.

I grew up very protected. My parents sheltered me from everything they could, so when I died and began to see all the horrible things in life it was a bit shocking. I'd never heard of rape until I died, and I didn't even really know what sex was. When I turned sixteen, my mother sat me down and told me about sex. She said that people have sex to have children, and then told me how it's done.

It's safe to say I had no interest in sex when our conversation was over.

I had my first kiss at fifteen, and even then it was only a tap on the lips. I never kissed someone the way I've seen people kiss now.

I watched as the world changed, watched as technology hit every house. I watched as each part of my outfit became old and outdated. I observed as our culture changed, as more people got piercings in odd places and ink drilled into their skin to make a statement. It's okay to curse now, it's okay for women not to have to guard their bodies as religiously as my mother's era and mine did. The ideal curvy body left the scene and in its place the skin and bones fashion models reigned supreme. Every time I blink it's like another year has passed and if I don't pay attention I will be left in the dust.

I gave up keeping up with the trends about ten years ago. Now the only thing I pay attention to is the year and children. Not all children can talk to me, but some can. I don't even know the guy's name, the guy that came up to me and told me I glimmered. It suddenly seems very important to know his name. I lay down on the sand, wishing that I could actually feel its grainy roughness against my back. I've forgotten how most things feel after almost forty years of having no touch. I grin, smiling up into the sky and closing my eyes in some semblance of rest.

Perhaps next time when a child asks why I glow, I shall simply say I am Tinkerbell.