The rain is barely a mist, orbs of water

floating static in the air. Any droplet lucky

enough finds pity in erect blades of grass,

whose edges are blunt against human

skin but pierce the spheres. The

precipitation finds solace in its quick end.

The girl, however, must place barefoot

after barefoot through the unending field.

If only the grass could find a vendetta

against her, a reason to attack, to stab, at

her soles. Should they break flesh, she

might bleed out, gravity tearing the blood

from her head down to the freshly opened

severs. A welcome fate.

The grass feels no such mercy, not for

her. As she continues her somber march,

unmoving droplets begin to meet her skin.

There is no burst, no eruption of freedom,

the water simply lingers, flowing freely

across her frame.

Until the girl’s movement stops. A crack

and cry, the first sounds heard on this

plane, leave her body as her knees

buckle. She tilts her head up, to what

should be sky, and stares.

Every pore on her body begins to split. A

pure whiteness fills the spaces now

empty, the water, once unconstrained in

its movement, begins to seep into

the brilliant voids now covering the girl.

She screams.

There was once silence here.

With her head forced high, the girl does

not see the black orbs bobbing to the

surface of the voids, nor does she see the

orbs skitter back and forth across the

bleached voids, frantically pounding

against their restraints.

There seems to be no pattern in the ferocity of the

pupils’s movements, only a

desperation, a hunger for anything but the

blankness of the field. They move

independently from each other, a chaos

that makes the girl look like static.

Even through the haze of terror, the girl

can feel her blood vessels creating new

pathways, carving their way to the voids of

light, and when reaching them, bursting

into the white space, tattering off in red

bolts ripped from the sky.

Her heart pounds at the demands her

body gives, spiralling rhythmically to the

sound of screams. Despite her pain, the

girl’s eyes remain unwavering, stagnant,

ignoring a single tear, which rolls down the

maze of bloodshot orbs festering on her

cheeks.

The small droplet fights its way to her

chin, and stays hesitantly on the edge

before falling to earth, shattering on a

blade of grass.

And every eye begins to cry.