missing light
"how many faces does sorrow have?" questioned Harriet Rosewood to herself
"is it the regret that my heart holds? is it the rage i grasped as a child? is it the remorse that i felt when i looked away from the odds?" pondered she while peering at the glistening lake under the moonlight.
Harriet Rosewood, a women in her mid twenties with coal black hairs cascading down her back perfectly adjusting upon her diamond shaped face. Huge grey eyes with a hint of winter frost, eye bags encircling beneath illuminating her parchment pale skin. Her towering figure carried away a hint of of an unsettling presence one would never wish to cross their paths with.
Her silent resentment due to the mental retardation she faced was barely beyond the sorrow she carried.
why was her resentment barely beyond the grief she carried?
Because, grief is an emotion wrapped in a thousand ugly dark shrouds grief never fades upon its own it just gets better until it catches upon a very random day , just to realize that we never healed from what we felt we just had the audacity to walk away from it.
Alarmed by the emotions that began to swarm inside her head the nausea started to progressively become worse she was so immensely consumed in her thoughts she heard a ruffling sound from afar dragging her out of the chaos in her mind that was about to break free.
out of sheer suspicion she zigzagged through her way that led her to the other side of the river where the sight of something took her breath away.
