Lori's Free Will

In the dark world, glistening drops of water cascade, an emotional symphony across the vast, silent echo. Eyes peeled to the distant plains, Lori inhales the gasping breaths of dying Autumn, her feet scattered in a vibrant swirl of rustic, fallen leaves.

Lori arrived here yesterday, her unsure presence struck against the burnished glows of dying life. It was a destructive world that she had continuously tried to escape. Her heart missed the frozen cold, a state that constantly restored her will to exist.

Distant from her, the blankets of winter etch their way across the sullen surface. Dotted with the first catches of snowfall, the irrigated land of winter safely buries danger. It is a dark state that Lori knows she cannot escape forever.

In frustration, a deep haze engulfs Lori's mind, as thick as the wafts of smoke ascending the rapidly appearing, surrounding chimneys. Cluttered rooftops shimmer in the marred light, carriers of repressed memories that she would not like to face again.

Lori's fingers are iced and raw, burying themselves in the pockets of her long coat. Refusing to defrost, her hands sting with ice burn. A chill settles itself deeply in Lori's stomach, a live-wire knot that twists and ties itself tightly, refusing to loosen its bind. She has faced the dark many times before and will have to do so again.

The steam ascending the lake's flow generates a heat, like a slow-burning fire. Its warmth encircles Lori, forcing her to pay attention. Spent by her emotional journey and not by choice, Lori weakly widens her eyes, allowing herself to be confronted by the raw, energetic flow.

The fierce flame of vibrancy makes Lori's heart skip a beat. Dark red lines etch themselves frantically upon her skin, rendering her in their drawn world. It is a state she shakes vigorously against, knowing full well where it will lead her.

Adorned with sparks of fire, Lori's body is propelled to press on ahead, to run and escape her pending wrath. Patterns of howls scatter across the silence, primal calls that set Lori's heart racing with a feeling that shakes her, piercing through the harshly silent atmosphere. She does not wish to leave the comfort of her winter and be exposed to the danger of fire.

Lori's physical existence is a discordant blur in the constantly re-etched version of herself. Rapidly, her arms and torso are smudged, eliminating her yearning aesthetics of gentle snowfall and dramatically casting her against a backdrop of wrathful fire. Imposed in this moment, Lori can only blink her eyes, desiring to wipe the fire away.

A bonfire sparks its light in the near distance, highlighting the striking memory of a past romance plot. She is faced with a vivid image, composed of soft curly hair, striking cheek bones and deep green, troubled eyes, which stare deeply into her own. It is a luring presence, made more eerie in the firelight, as Caro extends his clenched fist towards her.

Caro's fist of cargo, burning red and alight, transporting a dark message in his hidden palm. One that once set Lori shaking, as she watched the dead Autumn leaves strike against Caro's strong stance. It was a truth that tore Lori to the bone, a plot twist that she was unwilling to face.

Multitudes of time, Lori had been made to fly aside Caro's wake. His raw dreams ate away at his waking life, sending him into deep, silent moments of brooding. There was a pain inside of him, tearing away with its destructive force and internalising him deeply. Their characters conflicted and their creator was entranced by their clash, placing them together at every opportunity in order to gain results.

Once she escaped the story track, Lori had blossomed in the winter, her being seeking time to heal in the soothing cold. She delighted in feeling the dexterity of her fingers; the agility of her limbs and the rising emotions of wonder and awe that pounded in her heart. Time to herself had allowed Lori to grow into the being she willed herself to live. She enjoyed her solo life, away from the craze of an imposed story world. It was her deep spiritual connection to winter that helped her to slowly connect with her emerging identity.

Caro was a plot twist that cut into Lori's cultivated cold, melting it with flashes of furious fire. The antagonist to her life journey, Coro's eyes fumed with a seductive rage. Still in creation, Lori's creator would not relent, placing her time and again in Caro's way. It was a path that she could never seem to escape.

Caro could not see the cold like Lori could. She loved the magic of snow, its flakes glistening with their uniqueness. She could speak softly to winter, asking it to cast its magic upon her and allowing her to dream.

In the near distance, Caro's fumes billow, wracking Lori's lungs. She coughs, gasping for pure cold air. Burn away he does, sizzling with the heat of fire, stepping closer to her internally shaking being.

Lori wills herself to run, dodging the red streaks that attempt to mark her. Her frozen frame is light, almost airborne like the snowflakes she adores. Caro is fast, his breath upon her. "Lori," his voice is sizzling with heat. "Face me."

Lori can feel the strong lure of Caro, his voice one that had once thrilled her with its possibilities. A tickle of temptation almost turns her to face him. He is her antagonist, created for her, designed to make her turn and face the dark. Slowing down, Lori can feel the red marks begin to scratch against her again, setting her legs firmly in place and turning her torso around to face Coro.

Fiercely wilful, Lori closes her eyes, refusing to acknowledge Coro's darkness. His searing heat scorches her icy soul. His world is one that was unwanted by her and so she had outgrown it; her spirit thriving in the comfort of her iced cold life world. She had found a new way to exist, freeing herself from the controlling story lines and sketches. It is a peace that she has nurtured and clings to dearly.

At fight for Lori's will, winter's frost sparkles its bitten magic, eating away at the aggressive sketch that engulfs Lori. Drizzling her with its ice crystals, it carries her afloat, away from Coro's dark madness.

Adrift in the ice-burnt sky, Lori's heart soars. Her chosen, unique world is strong and able to support her independently. Such freedom is foreign to her, as she has always belonged to her creator's artistic imagination.

The ice cold resonates with Lori, nestling its safety and comfort in her brightly glowing heart. It is her fight against the ever-changing world and its darkness. To immerse herself in her beloved states of existence, deep in the heart of winter's frost, is to capture her precious moments of choice.

Afloat, she hides, setting the imposed story world off track. It is a world unwanted by her growing spirit, who desperately wills herself to be.