Wedding DayI could hear the crashes and bangs resounding in the attic. The house was dark and lightning was flashing through the night sky. I sat huddled in the corner of the kitchen, my wedding gown hanging loosely on me. It was ripped, torn, and blood-stained from my forest flight. The long white skirt was pooled around my legs, and the sleeves hung off my shoulders. My copper red hair, which had earlier been pulled into a neat French twist, was now falling in loose coils around my face.For a moment the crashes grew louder, mingling with the thunder outside. The flashes of lightning illuminated my face for a second, my relfection staring back at me in the stainless steel of the dish washer. My green eyes were wide with terror. My skin was pale, bruises, and cut up.But I had to go up to the attic. I had to find some way to get out of this house, or to get rid of the malign forces obviously within.Shakily I rose to my feet, my dress still pooling around my bare feet. I let out a scream as, wit
SolitudeSolitudeIf solitude were a snowstorm,I would be lost in it.If it were music,It would be the song of my life.If it were a scent,It would suffocate me.If it were a mountain,It would tower over me.It is like the soundOf a lone wolfs criesTo the full moon.It is like a drink,The bitter taste of my life.Solitude is a volcano,And I have fallenInto its fiery core.