Treasured daughter, Heiress, Billionaire, galactic genius, Wife, Mom, Queen and murderer. Bulma Briefs has gained many names in her life time. This story starts on her eighteenth birthday.
It was a glorious sun soaked morning; Bulma was sat in her lab, consumed in thought. she was bathed in the light that shone brightly through the huge window in front of her. Bulma had just started work on a new project, just to pass the time, she began to sketch lost in deep creativity. After an hour she noticed the soft sound of birds singing. In front of her sat a breathtaking view of a lake, framed by trees. It was just turning autumn and the leaves where different colours .each looked like a precious jewel . she sighed. Even brilliance gets stunned by beauty occasionally. Bulma stood abruptly, being drawn toward the reflection of a heaven.
She the door opened and Bulma danced gracefully onto the soft grass, the door closed silently behind her .a soft and unpredicted voice danced across the back yard into the cracks and nooks, brushing past the branches of the trees, interrupting the birds.
'Bliss'
Bulma walked toward the trees, until the shade consumed her. Around her sat the crisp jewels that had fallen. she parted from the sight of the house and started walking, with no destination in mind.
After a while the forest seemed to be unsettled and quiet, like the harmony had been stolen. Bulma felt the need to be silenced. I picked up her feet and lightly placed them down on crispy crunchy leaves.
what on Earth? .
After picking a new route, she found herself getting more and more anxious as the trees seemed to get closer and closer together. Time was moving slow until she came to a sudden and unexplainable clearing."
strange
it had quickly turned dark. Stars shone down through the absence of trees.
Bulma lost her breath. she was taken by shock at the seen before her. Straight through the clearing was in explainable violent gash through the soil, ruining the grass. Tearing her sight from the ground, she slowly lifted her head. Parting the trees into two; the gash continued its destructive course. A shock wave ripped thought her body, also tearing it into two. Bulma was lost in thought, at a crossroad. One path ordering her to turn around now and abandon her discovery however the other path was tempting her to walk ahead and silently search, for the thing… responsible. She needed to quench the thirst so she started walking.
The soft wind pushed her hair across her face, so she reached across her forehead to brush it away. But her hand was hidden by the night.
when she walked into the gloomy abyss of trees she felt branches brush against her arms. I wonder if they where a sign. The last silent plea for me to turn back.
