Her blood stained the pure white snow, a beautiful contrast, almost as if it had been planned. She had always lived for the artistic value of life. The stories, songs, paintings. They had held her interest, her heart, like no living person ever had. They made up her soul, so it only made sense to her that her death would be so picturesque.
Her skin, so pale, was the perfect page for blue lips, blue eyes. Eyes closed against the burning sun in death, as in life. She had always hated it. That obnoxious day star. Hated it for it had hid the sparkle of the others stars, further away and less bright than it. Yet loved its warmth on her ever cold skin.
I remember that day, when she had laid in that massive field next to him, the sun hardly warming her icy touch. She shielded her eyes against it, watching the clouds as they put on a show in the sky. She had explained to him that they weren’t just randomly passing by, that they were engaged in a timeless dance that was far too complex for us humans to ever understand.
He had laughed and took her hand. Then they danced a simpler dance. One filled with laughter, smiles, and happiness. One that only they could understand, for only they could understand each other. But sometimes even he couldn’t quite grasp what went on in her mind.
She knew that was because he was genuinely good. Fully full of light, happiness, and love. While she she had a bit a darkness. For reasons even she didn’t understand.
She thought sad things, imagined horrid scenes, and sometimes didn’t like any living thing at all. Sometimes she just sat curled in a ball, unable to cry, unable to move. Just sat, and stared, and thought about how she didn’t belong here. How she didn’t deserve life.
She was so flawed and she knew it. It hurt her deeply. But when he was next to her, it hadn’t always felt so. She almost felt good too. Like she was maybe nearly as lovely and beautiful as him. Maybe she could be filled with light and happiness too.
But the voices, they told her she couldn’t stay. They told her she would ruin everything. That she had to get away, because she was meant to be alone. She was meant to be cold. Dark. Anywhere but here. The more she loved him, the clearer it became.
One day it became too much and she fled. In the middle of the day. She didn’t say goodbye, not to anyone. She hated goodbyes. She didn’t want to be convinced to stay.
She went wondering through the woods, lost and alone with no one to save her. But she didn’t mind.The quiet was nice for her mind. The gentle sounds of snowflakes falling, an anxious animal scampering across the frozen ground. It was all her ears could take. It was delightful.
The day wore on, and so did the night. She had on two winter coats, and her favorite purple knit hat, but she was still freezing. She started to regret leaving, but the voices kept telling her she couldn’t go back. Never go back.
Finally, she came across a purple bubble. Right in the middle of the forest. A bubble nearly bursting with warmth, comfort, and any story she could imagine. Anything she could think of, she could make true in there. She saw all the possibilities, so she reached out and touched it.
Her hand sank into the soft side, and seemed to turn purple too. She could finally feel her fingers again. She felt this strange sense of happiness.
Slowly, she came closer and closer, until her whole body dissolved into this odd place. Gone forever. Truly never able to come back to the physical world again.
The bubble took out the contents of her heart, her mind, her soul, and rejected her shell. It collapsed onto the ground. Her skull hit a rock, which made the back of her head bleed profusely. But she was dead before that. I knew if they found her body they would say it was hypothermia, but it was really the bubble. It had stole her life.
But none of that mattered to the girl who had now found what she wanted. A home within this bubble. Where she could go anywhere, do anything. Where she could finally live out the stories she had kept in her mind. Where she could rest in peace, for the one person she hated was dead. Herself. And the voices were gone, and she was content.
I only looked back once. To see my dead body lying on the ground, so still, for once not anxious. The sun had started rising, and there was a bird nearby singing. I couldn’t hear the sound, not from inside the bubble, but the bird looked like it was staring straight at me, and it looked so lovely I almost wished I had waited just a little longer. I almost wondered if I had made a mistake.