Ablaze night sky. The crickets chirp their happy song. The air is dreary, but the wind slowly lashes across the vast land. Black hair swaying in the distance. The humid air entwining bad with good, evil with innocent, constricts her breathing. The gun is held limply in her hand. An eerie silence washed throughout the misty remains of the bedewed grass. She looks simply out into the world, a world that used to be hers, colorful and unchangeable. She did not intend for this to happen, outlying and dreary she could make out a dim figure, a silhouette of a sharp-dressed man. An atrociously sinister chuckle made her insides turn out, contorting in all shapes and sizes. It was a faint scream, a call for help, heard remotely in the distance. In this waterlogged trap, she was off the beaten track. Her fearful, brave eyes gave way as her struggle became her suffer. As the soul began to leave her body, she was seeking a way to take her last breath, show him he couldn't win, she could not be defeated. A dark log that shouldn't have been there showed an insight of her life ahead. With the last bit of strength she had she got up, her head crashing into the sodden filled log, blackness occupying her world.
Heart of a Lion
June 24, 2009