The Hanging Girl

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She saw grey hues everywhere. Flickering shadows and gentle darkness covered her like a blanket and kept her warm.

In a dream, she had left her body, hovering in the air like a bird. No, even better, like a butterfly. Like a multicolored fluttering piece of art, put in the world only to spread happiness and wonder. Like a hovering being high up between heaven and earth whose magic dust could awaken the world to endless love and happiness.

She smiled at the thought. It was so beautiful and pure.

Now the ceaseless darkness above her fought with dim glints like distant stars. It felt good, almost like a pulse conducting the sound of wind and rustling leaves.

She couldn’t move at all but she didn’t want to anyway or she’d wake from the dream, and reality would suddenly kick in, and then the pain would come and who would want that?

Now a myriad of images appeared from life-giving times. Small glimpses of her and her brother hopping out over the sand dunes, parents shouting that they should stop. Stop!

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