I HAVE to write this SOMEWHERE It was a strange day, the clouds were a murky yellow grey, and I stood on the empty railway line watching either direction for a sign of life I knew wouldn't be there. Those words echoed in my mind again... "...You are a vessel for the lost..." My gaze wandered down to my bare torso, at the thin but visible verticle crack down my stomach. It looked nothing more than a scar a few days before, but my fingers had become transparent when I brushed against something cold. Only then did it become noticeable as something other than a healed wound. My slightly transparent fingers traced the line now, rolling over the unusually painless rupture