Shadows crept in the black of night.
Darkness consumed what is left of her sight.
She stumbled and tripped.
Hurt and bled.
She scoured for color.
Other than the color that bathed her flesh crimson
Other than the brownness of the scars that plague her integument
And other than the pinkish tissue that line her fresher scar tissues
She searched the pitch black void.
Frantically feeling for any morsel of light
A much-prized light in an age enveloped with unforgiving darkness
A candle would be useless.
A matchstick rendered inconsequential.
For what she needed was to be inundated.
An inundation of perpetual light that burrows flesh and breaks bones.
A lighthouse shooting white spectrum across dark obsidian waters
Bending gracefully in the fluidity of life's dance
For a split-second, it was there.
Creating ripples of color
Shining brightly like a hot summer day
Infecting everything in its path
Contagious as a yawn. Uplifting. Festive and beaming.
But its beam turned into a gloat. She knew it was temporary
And later let out a sob that would echo for ages eerily
In her mind, she desperately conjured an apothecary
To prepare for another six months of monstrosity
That...if she'd be lucky.
The light was still there..burning faintly now.
The hot summer day turned into a cold winter spell.
Chilling. Gnawing. Grating.
Fading painfully slow
As the unforgiving darkness permeates the final traces of her own ember.