Don't know what FTCTW is? Click Here to join the revolution. This installment of FTCTW's author is Crazy Elf.

Author's Comments: I have no idea where this came from. I was told that submissions were open for this thing, so I started writing. This just gushed out. There's no rhyme or reason to it. It just is.

Untitled: By Crazy Elf

It took awhile for the body to be collected. Until it was it just sat there, staring of into the sunset. No one was sure how they died, but they were dead. Just an old woman, staring out into the sea.

"Hello, dear." she had said to me.

I nodded a reply. There wasn't much I could say, or would say. Sometimes you have bad days and they get the best of you. This was one of those days, so I just nodded.

"Bad day?" she asked.

I didn't nod this time, but that was the same as having done. Probably more deliberate, really. Nothing says you're not having a good time like saying nothing at all.

"It's okay." she said, and went back to watching the sun sink.

Gold light on water does something to me. It's like I need a connection with something or someone when I watch it. When it's a good goodnight to the sun I feel I have to look around at someone and at least nod, or smile, or catch and eye and say, "Hey, that's beautiful, right?" like I need confirmation of what I'm feeling from someone else.

So I look over to this lady, and she's dead.

She's smiling, but she's dead.

I don't know how I knew. It wasn't like her head exploded or anything like that. She was just dead, and you could tell. If you'd taken a picture there would have been no way of knowing, it would have just looked like an old lady asleep, leaning on old wooden railing overlooking the sea.

So I go to check on her, to do CPR or something. I'm not completely stupid, I figure I can save her, but as I'm about to move her I can see this necklace on the railing, and it's got three letters staring back at me.

DNR.

Do Not Resuscitate.

So I call the paramedics all the same, and say that there's a dead woman by the beach with a DNR tag. They call some codes and ask if I can stay there. I tell them I can and I do. Then it was just me and the old lady.

I watch her as the sun sets. The golden light makes her glow, and all the tension that's left her takes years off her appearance. I try to relax my face, and when I put my hands up to see if there's any change I notice that I'm crying. I don't know why, I just am.

She had a one way conversation with me when she got there, so I returned the favour.

"I came to this town around two years ago. For a guy. Moved a few thousand kilometers, or miles as you call them over here, so that I could be with someone that seemed like 'the one' at the time."

I wipe away some tears and look over. She's still beautiful, so I keep talking.

"But I don't know. It seemed like that back then, seems like a bad idea now. I'm not sure I came for him, but more for me, or to get away from something. Maybe to get away from me... that seems pretty on the ball."

I get all insightful when I'm talking to dead people. I figure a mortician would be a good career move if it weren't for the tears.

"So I came here, and it was good for a time. I thought it was good all the time, but people change. Things change. People don't say what they want to say, or what they should say, they just say what's easy and hope that everyone else is psychic or some such shit."

I look over to her again, and try out a chuckle that dies halfway.

"I guess that's kind of like how I'm treating you now. I figure I can talk to you now that you're dead. Like now it'll make a difference."

I stop talking and think about things, then I start thinking out aloud again.

"So you wanted to die, huh? Or you just didn't want to pass up the opportunity? DNR and all that."

Silence.

"Thought so."

I watch the golden glow dance about, then talk again.

"So I'm in this city now. It's over between him and me. Says he wants a girl who's... I don't know, something or other. Less headstrong, more passionate, more bullshit that just means he's too scared of where things are and where things are going. It's all crap, but it still hurts like hell and it still feels like I'm completely alone in a strange land. This isn't my home."

The old girl looks happy now she's dead. I wonder if I'll look like that when I'm her age. I wonder if I'll make it to her age. I wonder if I'll die alone, or if I'll die like she did, just sitting there on a wooden rail next to someone who needs to talk but won't.

"I guess it's not home for the people who live here either."

We both watch the sunset until it goes.

"I'm glad I met you, lady. I'm glad you didn't die alone."

So then the ambulance came and took her away. Seemed a shame to move her, she looked pretty peaceful like that. I watched her until they moved her, and got her on a stretcher. She seemed to glow right to the back of the ambulance, the sun breathed life into her death. Took them closing the doors for the cop to get my attention.

"Hey lady, you okay?" they say, probably for the third or fourth time. Not that I could have been counting.

"I'm fine." is what I say, and I feel it for the most part.

"You mind if I ask you a few questions?"

I don't, so I say, "Go ahead."

The guy runs through the usual cop stuff. I tell him there weren't any ice daggers and terrorists and he seems happy. Says something about an autopsy, which seems odd to me. I figure you get some dignity when you hit eighty, but apparently the dead don't have dignity, they take that with them.

She seemed to have more than enough dignity. She seemed to leave some behind.

Eventually the cop lets me go. I head down the beach and sit in the sand, watching the last of the sun extinguish itself in the ocean. As it fades, I hug my knees close and cry. Not just tears, but all the way down. I sob right into myself, pressing my eyes against my knees until the tears soak through.

I don't know if the tears are for her, or if they're for me, or if they're for the sweatshop kids that made the jeans in the first place. I don't know if I'm not fitting into this place, or if I don't fit into any place. I don't know if that old lady's in a better place, or if the guy who left me is in a better one, or if I one day will be.

I don't know if I'm going to die alone.

But sometimes, it sure as fuck feels that way.