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Marley

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Once upon a time there was a girl named Marley. She was a beautiful girl; with hazel eyes that matched perfectly with her long golden hair. She was tall, with nimble fingers and graceful movements. Her skin seemed to shine with its olive tone with every touch of sunlight. Her eyes told a story without her mouth ever having to make a sound. She was a solitary creature; content to be alone. She spent her time instead of making friends, in the evergreen forest that surrounded her home. Her house, in fact, seemed to be apart of the forests itself; the outside the color of wet moss with a porch covered with auburn leaves and dried branches. Inside her home smelled, strangely, like tears, whatever that would smell like. She may have been content but she was not happy. Her sadness shone through her beauty. In fact she was so lonely that every night as the sun set, she would travel to a certain lake. This lake was, ironically, nothing more than a dim glow when compared to its previous glory.It seemed more like a puddle, a drop of water in an ocean of dried up mud mixed with leaves, twigs, and the remainders of forgotten animals. But she did indeed still consider it a lake. For she was there when that puddle was a glorious lake filled with crystal clear water that appeared to be moving glass, so easily could a person see through its depths. Every night she would go to this lake, and every night she would drop a pebble into the center of it, creating a ripple. And every time she dropped a pebble into the lake she would look to see where the pebble landed, for this lake was as clear as glass. Strangely, there was no pebble. It simply disappeared. Marley asked one simple question, "Where did you go?" as she looked into the center of the lake, seeing nothing more than its shallow bottom. She was always too afraid to put not a pebble, but herself, into that lake. Unfortunately, one day, she slipped. She slipped directly into the center of the lake. And she disappeared. Minutes, days, weeks, months, years, centuries passed and she never surfaced. But of course, one day, while it was raining and the sky nothing more than a gray, water downed verizon of its self, she appeared. But not as you would imagine. For she was not alive; she was dead, with eyes no longer hazel, but clear crystal blue. A blue that tore through anyone's heart for it was so cold that the stare issued from her eyes would simply stop a heart. Froze the heart so badly that it shattered into pieces; pieces that tore through a persons entire body. Her hair was no longer golden, but a startlingly white; whiter than the coldest snow and the brightest light. So long that it passed her shoulders and tickled her ankles. Her olive tone was replaced with a strange bluish pigment that stained her skin into a pale blue, somewhat of a contrast to her cold eyes. Her nails black and her lips left with no color, she was no longer alive, but rather a twisted shell of herself. One in which had no heart for which compassion or sympathy could linger, and so instead she was filled with nothing. She had lost herself, in a lake that was nothing more than a drop in an ocean of dried up mud.





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HeHasAName said...
Nov. 29, 2014 at 12:37 am
This was a beautifully written piece.
 
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