The Girl with the Raven Hair

The girl with the raven hair sat with her back towards the ocean. It was a beautiful day, perhaps the most scenic day of the year. The ocean was calm, and a frisky breeze whistled through the air. There was hardly a soul enjoying the sands; thus, a private and enjoyable day in the waters. The sun hung low in the sky, still casting its yellow rays. Yet a tear trickled down her cheek, splashing onto the multi-colored sand below her feet. 

She had once transversed these lands, witnessed the sparkling of water and the dullness of rocks. She had felt the graininess of the sand between her feet and the smooth cobblestones of the street. She had taken in a salty breath, and exhaled the plumes of smoke in the city. Her raven hair had flowed behind her, and with it flowed her wings as she fluttered from place to place.

How she enjoyed the life around her. The constant chattering provided the harmony to her life, and the sounds of traffic was the backdrop. But after that fateful day, she never felt herself in her body anymore. Her chopped black hair became a symbol of disgust and despair. A symbol of a pit she had spiraled down to. And, oh, her eyes! They had never looked so dull and bleak to the world around her. The world around her never looked so dull and bleak to her. She was a stranger to her lonesome, and no one seemed able to help her out of the ground. 

She remembered her sister. How her shining spider-silk golden hair flowed in the wind, and how her turquoise eyes sparkled everytime she laughed. She was the light in the empty mansion they lived in, for her father was wrapped in a casket below the ground, and her mother was on a business trip in a land so far away she had not returned in months. Her butterfly of a sister lifted her from the pit and into the sky. With her, she was happy; her sister made life seem bearable.

Now her sister was dead and festering in the casket below where no light would reach. Her mother had attended the funeral and left. Her mother was not there when her sister died. She did not see the light leave her eyes, the soft sigh that escaped her lips, and the slight curving of a smile as her breath was taken away from her. No, the girl with the raven hair was the only one there. She was the one who cradled her sister’s cold hand, who called the coroner, and made the due calls to relatives. 

The girl with the raven hair could not stop another tear rolling down her cheek. No longer would she have a friend to share the long nights and the dark days with. Without her sister, she was nothing. Her sister told her not to mourn her. She said to continue living happily and to find joy in even the simplest things. She said never to let the tide of darkness and sadness take her away again. But the girl with the raven hair was nothing without her butterfly of a sister. She finally turned to look at the ocean. 

The shimmering sapphire waves with the rolling of white speckles never looked so tempting. The sun was setting, and the hue of the sky faded from a brilliant blue to a pastel blue, pink, and orange. How lucky her sister was to die on this day. She deserved nothing less than dying quietly from the pain the illness had forced upon her.

The girl with the raven hair stood up from the rock, admiring the feel of the graininess of the sand beneath her toes. If her sister could not join her in this life, she would join her sister in the next. Her wings were clipped, and her raven hair hung lifeless above her shoulder, framing her too pale face and too wide eyes. 

The waves crashed on her toes, and the tingle of chilliness descended upon her body. A melody drew her deeper, and the crashing of the waves provided the beat. The breeze even seemed to push her forward, whispering sayings only the wind could understand. Yet her hair refused to sway, and neither did she. Perhaps this was the only time she ever felt certain about something. Her lilac dress rippled a little, the only sign that she was ever alive in this world. For even if she moved, she felt like a spector and a spectator to her life. 

The water caressed her calves as she walked deeper. Her legs had turned to ice by now, providing welcoming pain. The sun was pulled lower, the sky darkening to a vibrant purple. Her favorite color. A final glimpse of the beauty she was to depart.

The regrets and sorrows clawed at her, hindering her walk to the deep down. Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps there was still someone out there waiting for her. Yet the one person waiting for her was not in this life. One final tear dropped into the salty waters beneath her. She turned her head, allowing her one final glimpse of the imposing house and the rock she had sat on. There was nothing beautiful left holding her back; she continued walking, never looking back again.

She had nothing left. Her family was gone. She had no friends. And the claws of the water pulled her in, the tide ebbing and flowing. She would not let her body ever go through the pains of life again.

Her shoulders and then her head disappeared under the water. The last glimpse of her was her raven hair, descending below into the unknown. There was no sound of distress. There was no regret. She closed her eyes and held her breath. The ocean claimed her whole, and the girl with the raven hair disappeared from the life of the living.

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