or at least not dead
I am not sure
I live just yet.
Eyelids fluttered slightly, the lashes barely moving. It could have been a trick of the light, but for the simultaneous parting of the lips that betrayed a sharper exhale than the deep breathing of sleep could produce. Again, the slight flicker of the lids, longer this time, so the flash of the pupils, flashing smaller to adjust to the dim light, appeared for just an instant. Time passed. Slowly, the dim light creeping through an indeterminate gap in the heavy drapes that covered the entirety of the longest wall in the room grew steadily brighter and more golden as it consistently shone in a glowing beam directly on a slim figure curled on a blanket spread across the hardwood floor. Small features could be made out, such as pale skin with green veins that were as clearly defined. Also the movements of small muscles jumping under the skin here and there. A draft creeping down the flue caused goosebumps to rise on the previously smooth skin, and stirred long, reddish-gold hair that exactly followed the curve of the body from the scalp to the knees. Another blink, longer this time, and the next time the eyes stayed open. Two hands, delicate and slim with femininely long nails went to the floor on either side and pushed the figure upright, turning the face directly into the beam of light, causing the pupils to contract until the eyes appeared solidly green with a mere black dot in the center. With a flurry of soft sounds and a gentle sigh, the petite form rose with the ease of a wisp of smoke escaping the fire. She took the stance of one who has not stood enough to know quite how to balance upright yet. The straight length of hair transformed from a slim rope lying alongside her, to garbing her in an Eden-esque gown as resplendent as Eve ever possessed.
The circle of light, now focused on brightening the patch of shimmering gray cloth that had served as a temporary bed in a past life, twenty minutes before, steadily marched farther. It reached across the room, and half way up the dark wall before one circle of the room had been accomplished by its sole living inhabitant. Step by slow step, the room was explored in its entirety until there was nothing new to see, and the sun had moved past its zenith, plunging the room into early twilight. The only color was now the faint luminosity of the long, reddish-gold hair, and the bit of silk blanket on the floor. She bent and picked up the flash of gray, transforming it from a length of cloth, to an unmistakable full length, loose gown. She slid it over her head -- arms slipping into the correct sleeves as much by chance as any other particular whim of fate -- and tightened the lacing on the bodice slightly before standing in the center of the room, clad in mist. Even standing still her pose suggested an graceful, gentle way of movement; she now appeared as a flash of flame through fog, with the long hair spilling out of the gray silk. It went flowing down across the back, and around the shoulders, and moved nearly independently of her slight movements that sent it awry.
By the time the soft sheen of silver moonlight had created its own puddle to stream down onto a patch of the floor, softening colors and blurring lines, she had once again sank into a heap. Her eyes were open, face turned full into the light, eyes blinking long and slowly. Wind could be heard blowing around, knocking small twigs into the outside of the room, and whispering secrets in unknown languages to anyone who “hath an ear to hear.” The old house swayed gently on its foundation and murmured back in creaks and groans, and the girl’s blinks slowly grew longer and slower till at last they remained closed in her serene face till the golden glow of sunrise, and the creaking of foot on stair brought her eyes wide open again.