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p e r f u m e
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He can still smell the perfume, a bittersweet reminder of days gone by; a fruity scent follows him out of the house (oh, the empty, dead house), trailing him softly as a shadow, swift as a silent lioness through the dark.
He recognizes it, and he does not know why; it brings back the faintest recollections of a time, a place, an age he never knew, an inexplicable moment of remembrance of a girl he once knew, a girl skipping through the meadows of his dreamt reality, fluffy clouds drifting across the azure sky and the watery spring sun beating down on her white, plaited hair. She went barefoot, a pretty, flowery dress offering her porcelain skin only the bare minimum of protection from the things out to hurt little girls.
A harsh wind whipped across his face, the scent now adrift on the midnight summer breeze, lost amongst the sickly-sweet stench of decay in the air.
The little girl was dead now, the skies grey and the clouds black; a storm brewed in the distance, and the girl lay still in the grass. Her hair was matted with blood and her dress was ripped and torn, her feet dirty and limp beneath her. Innocent.
An icy wind blew in from the west, her dress rustling around bent, broken legs and her fair eyelashes fluttering over closed, blue eyes.
This was where the angels met his nightmares in a grey and stormy meadow, his playmate lying dead upon the ground.
So... my first effort for the 100Quills challenge, for which I caimed Regulus and have yet to write another 99 chapters for. Reivew? I mean, come on, it takes all of two seconds to type 'I like it' or 'I hate it' (preferably the former! And a little more detail... ) And no, you can't sue me when it takes you three seconds to type 'It's okay' or 'sucks', because that's what's called nitpicking, people... :)