Song Bird
A cottage stood in a small clearing, hidden by the surrounding forest. It’s ivy choked bricks almost gleaming in the warm sun. Normally it’s the type of place one would stumble upon, but not for Wren. For her it was called home. She stood, studying the gleaming bricks wondering if she should enter. Once welcoming, it now stands ominous before her. Gathering her courage she took a step towards the home. Then another and another, slowly walking through the front garden and to the door. As she walked she held her hand out and ran it over the various flowers that she planted. That they planted. Her black sundress flowed sadly behind her. The whole scene looked like something from a fairytale. But this is real life. Finally she faced the door. It stood warm and confident in front of her. Gingerly she touched the iron handle and opened the door, letting it slowly swing open. The scene in front of her made her cry. It’s almost like nothing happened at all. Everything was exactly as she left it. The only difference was the echoing quiet. It wrapped around her very soul and dragged her down to the floor. It worked its way into her lungs and forced her to heave up a sob. It pushed tears out from her eyes, forcing them to fall faster than she wanted. It’s never been so quiet. She tried to fight it, to stand up and move on. She just couldn’t. Her red hair fell around her forming a veil, trying to hide the room before her. She felt ashamed and absolutely broken. So she sat there, not bothering to close the door, and screamed.
