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I stared down at the seated figure of crimson-stained blonde human hair and skin, stared at the damaged white cotton dress and for a moment, I forgot what this meant. I thought erroneously that she looked like an angel, a bloodied, dishevelled, tainted mimicry of celestia. I thought that she looked like a fallen angel that rebelled against God and exiled herself from the heavens. But then I regained my ability to think after so long of not needing to, after so long of letting my body just run away from the world with as much sense as an animal. I saw the body underneath her and looked at the crippled corpse’s face, its eyes peeled back and mouth gaping in shock. The blood pooled out from a jagged tear made in its neck, having long dried by now into the crevices of the rotting skin. The grass had been turned a bright and sombre red and looking at her again now I realised that she was not a fallen angel. She was a ghost, a ghost of the person I once knew.
- Language:
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