There the moon gliding its light to guide her slipping away — and the shadows in the tree stalked her soulless grumbling footsteps.

Cricket's music calmed her heart. The immense outcry of the branches woke the parallel of the Dead Tree amid the black forest. Even the wilderness turned cold when she steps afoot. Her sight gone and her heart is pretentious to the music of the lonely shadows. “Come here, dear, for you must set yourself free.”

It was from the parallel — the ones whom the living bodies buried and forgotten. The sandcastle was falling away. The shadows almost struck her red knitted dress and begging her to come. But she was finding her way — a princess lost in the deep. To fall away, to be shot by a bullet straight into her heart. To be gone, and to sing her last breath.

She murmurs to the shadows in the tree, even when she could not make out her way, she steps, and steps. Until she fell into the deep hole and woke up, she was in a coffin. The loud cries of the people surrounding her — while she was being buried alive. She sang her last breath, then, the shadows beneath her held her body.

Until they were in the sandcastle. The ones that fall away in endless sorrow and death. Maybe then, she belongs as a soulless spirit to never be content in the living dead.

There the moon gliding its light to guide her slipping away — and the shadows in the tree stalked her soulless grumbling footsteps.