Continued…

I hadn’t expected this inorganic phantom to behave as though it still lived. It moved as if its consciousness was intact. It made intelligent decisions in order to protect itself. And yet, the scent of vanilla, exhaled from its unnatural state of fully-functioning lungs, allowed me to track it.

“Why are you trying so hard to escape?” I shouted, then tilted my head slightly, ready to detect the descent of a blossom falling to the ground. I'd hoped to make the thing move from its hiding place, but he'd decided not to cooperate. “You are a wraith. You are what remains of a life-taker. Your existence is forfeit. You know this.”

Wraiths, by nature are insubstantial. If he stepped on a twig, it would not break in half. If he dragged his feet, I would not hear the rustling of leaves. I had to wait and listen for the disturbance in the air.

Seconds later, the physical process of breathing produced by this nearly invisible creature, allowed me to identify its location. Led by instinct, I closed my eyes as my fingers gripped the hilt of my knife. It’s blade was shaped from a piece of red obsidian. It’s handle fashioned from a deer antler. I drew in the oxygen-rich air, then released my weapon of choice.

Confident the target had been hit, I kept my eyes closed. The wraith’s high-pitched wailing had forced the birds from the trees. I listened to their fluttering heart beats. The rush of air through the feathers of their small wings. The movement of the branches when released from the grasp of their dainty, clawed feet.

When silence returned, I opened my eyes and retrieved my knife.

The wraith had disintegrated into a pile of weightless, white ashes. He did not deserve a marker. The smallest of pebbles would have provided a reverence he was not entitled to.