The chill of the winter breeze trembled down her spine as she stood in the bleak meadow.
The meadow, dead and lonely, welcomed her presence.
The breeze continued to blow, seeming as though it wanted to suck her into its desolate state.
How had she gotten there? She did not know.
She had a slight memory of her previously hope filled life.
She screamed, lost and confused.
She began to run, searching for an escape.
She called out for someone, anyone.
No response.
She continued to run, desperate to return to the land of promise and happiness, yet there seemed to be no end to the hopeless meadow and its darkness.
Running was useless, for the meadow seemed to expand with her every step, surrounding her.
Succumbing seemed to be her only option.
Hopelessly she surrendered herself to the boundless meadow.
Now she is one with the meadow because she to is dead and lonely.