There once existed a child, beautiful and delicate was she, a miniature angel. Many could not see beyond her porcelain skin and fine features to discover the great sadness that plagued the interior of her tiny body. The child spent her life being showered with adoration from all those around her, for they all surely loved this angelic child who seemed as though she held great beauty inside to match that of her outer appearance.
The child was eager to please and she complied with those who surrounded her, allowing them to worship her heavenly ways. However, as the days passed the gentle pain that throbbed through her body began to grow, intensify until it was no longer an element
existing only in the background. The pain had become real to the child, all she could do was the feel the ache as the sadness continued to eat her soul, purging a poisoness evil through her veins.
The child began to transform, the lengthyness allowed for the unfocus on the dramatic change that had occurred. Slowly the angelic features were drained from the child, consumed by the sadness. Those who had knelt at her altar surrounded the child no
re. As the sadness continued to chew the child became alone.
The poison began to flood her being, the child’s emotions were deadened and she become hollow. Her eyes became dark pools gazing blankly into the world of shadows that awaited her. The child watched as the shadows beckoned her closer but she was so dr
ned by the sadness that she could not move toward them. So the child began to wait . . .
The child sat and waited as the shadows began to close in on her. As the minutes passed the world became darker and her skin colder. The child watched as the shadows kept on closing in on her sadness. As they hovered just inches away she felt their w
mth press up against her face, wrap around her neck to suffocate and choke her.
Again the child lay helpless as her body was drained, but with this came the feeling of pressure release and relief. The sadness passed through the childs glass skin and the shards of pain removed their imprints in her flesh. The shadow stole away wit
their prize. The child lay pale and peaceful, eyes closed with her bottom lip dropped ever so slightly.
Then you must wonder - - - why the fuck?
- - - Kat, 4 December 1998.