Wild Berry Meadow You're headed for heaven

ain’t often you see a ghost walkin’ in broad daylight.
eulie dawn don’t startle, but she does pause, mid-step, a berry still caught between her teeth. the woman ahead is cut from shadow, all sharp edges and old wounds, wearing a past that don’t seem to wanna let her go. she carries it like a heavy quilt stitched from bad luck and bad choices.
reckon you’re lost or lookin’ to be found? eulie asks, voice smooth as creekwater, soft as the hush before a storm. she don’t look right at the missing eye, but she don’t ignore it neither. she knows better than to pry where she ain’t wanted.
she rolls the berry over her tongue, swallows.
funny thing ‘bout these berries, she muses, stepping slow through the brush, they only sweet if you pick ‘em just right. too soon, too late—makes no difference. bitter all the same.
her head tilts, candlelit eyes flicking over the woman’s radio collar, the stub of a tail, the map of scars hidden ‘neath thick fur.
you tastein’ bitter or sweet these days, miss?