bethanish
The rising flames gorged themselves on everything in their path; flesh, wicker, fauna, fabric. The village was decimated in a matter of minutes, and all because one little girl had sneezed. Lillo grasped the doll and sniffled, wiping her nose on her tattered sleeve.
The clear cool water cut into the sensitive part of her feet, the sores sharpened by the intensity of the shallow depth. She would have her revenge. But not before this. Not before her wade.
The apple hung from the tree, tantalizing, pure, red, and whole. Her hand reached out and whispered across its perfectly smooth surface. It held within it the power to grant knowledge, and yet, it concealed a dark curse. If she were to take and eat, no longer would she be whole.
She lay there, a picture of perfect ease and contentment. A breeze wafted through, passing over her prostrate form, sending lovely little bumps up and down her arms from the cold air her butterfly winged sleeves let in. Her shirt was just long enough to cover the tops of her knees. He thought it the best gift he'd ever given her.