She lifts her head slowly from her slumping shoulders and tries to see if the surrounding darkness comes with familiarity. Peat moss cushioning the ground beneath her. Her dingy, mud clumped strands of hair sway with her faint movement as if strings on a violin playing their last cords on death.
She blinks and an eternity passes before she can open her eyes again.
Her life is heavy upon her shoulders.
She looks down at the ground, her hands not far from her face at all. Torn nails, bloody scratches and streaks of red clay remnant, camouflage from the naked eye that these are her hands.
Human hands.
A piercing scream erupts from deep within her throat.
Raw.
Soul shattering.
Her battle begins, as one life ends.
I love your writing!
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