The slightest of chills caresses a small figure
With eyes closed she feels the slightest ripple.
She is alone.
Moss, Sepia, and Gray surround her.
Pale, slender fingers meet the cool, moist Earth underneath.
She is thinking.
An almost inaudible thumping resonates.
Long ago did the Earth fall still around her, it is soundless.
She is silent.
The Earth around her is fresh and new.
Her fragile figure slowly rises and falls, soothing her.
She is emotionless.
A single drop falls from the canopy above.
Another falls at the same time, settling upon rose lips, it is salty.
She is hurting.
The wind picks up around her, pulling her hair in front of her.
Her eyes open, blackness surrounds her.
She is nothing.
The dirtied figure stumbles to her feet before falling again.
Her white gown turns redder, she slowly succumbs to the fire inside her.
…She has been broken….