I slipped away from the crowd, a small dot among others in the hills of Oakwood Cemetery.

I walked along, my heels clacking as they hit the cobbled road. Gray streams stained my face, starting under my eyes and ending at my clenched jaw. My hands ran through my hair, tangled by the wind, and stopped when they found my ears. I covered them, and opened my mouth to scream, but all that escaped my lips was a choked sob. My knees gave way and my hands hit the cold ground, leaves dancing over them. It was all I could do to support my own weight. I took a deep breath, failing to stop the shudder that ran through my body. No. I would not let this defeat me. The death of my aunt had been a predicted one, but painful all the same.

I thought back to the morning of her death. I had just left her room, an empty coffee mug in my hand. My aunt had seemed fine, smiling the same sweet smile I found frozen on her pale face when I returned. I remembered, frozen in shock, staring at her empty blue eyes directed towards the rising sun. I focused all my energy and managed to pull myself to my feet, my muscles screaming in protest. A scream. My snapped in the direction of the broken sound. I heard a thump mixed with the sound of snapping twigs. Silence. My feet were moving before the invisible gears in my brain had started to turn. Somewhere along the way, my feet met wet grass, and in a distant part of my brain, I kissed my shoes goodbye. I stopped, straining my ears to pick up a sound. A rustle, a laugh, another scream. Anything. A twig snapped and I turned, my muscles tense. Standing before me was a girl. Long black hair framed her face. Her green eyes were wild and for a second I wondered if it was a trick of the light. I blinked. No, she still looked the same. In contrast to her ragged white dress, her skin was yellowed. As I soon came to realize, so were the white of her eyes. My stomach clenched. It was all to familiar. She opened her mouth, a single word light as a feather and as silent as when it lands. "Help." She dropped to the ground, her body still. Ava Phillips Creative Writing Fictional