In a dimly lit bedroom, a young girl lies still in slumber.
The walls are adorned with the regalia of a fisherman’s boat. Drapes of nets
and faded buoys suspended on tattered ropes hang from washed out green walls.
The room, illuminated by a small oil lamp is filled with shadows, its small
flame flickers, reverberating around the room. The girl sleeps in a large
wooden bed, her body cocooned by a hand made quilt. Its colours of red and pink
clashing with the greens and blues of the rest of the room. Outside a storm
rages. The sea is crashing against the nearby rocky headland. The wind roars
around the little cottage and the rain batters down against the window panes.
Slowly she wakes, eyelids flickering in the faint glow of
the lamp. She sits up, her white, silk night gown, is clean and stark against
the colourful sheets. Now she notices the storm that has woken her. She stands,
tentatively placing her bare feet on the gold wooded floor. She looks down;
delicate white smoke is emanating from a small patch on her floor. She
carefully tiptoes towards it, the smoke clearing as she nears. There is a
puddle like a mirror on the floor. Its surface still as glass. She touches it
with her toe. The surface ripples. She kneels and peers into the endless pool. Staring
into her own eyes that are reflected back at her.
She touches the edge of the puddle and hissed when a sharp
edge cuts her dainty finger. She lifts her hand to her face to inspect it.
Blood, bold against her pale skin drips slowly into the puddle disturbing the placid
surface. The blood then lands on the face of her reflection and cascades down
its face resembling ghastly tears.
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