A young girl wanders through a crayon drawing land.
Remembering all that she had.
Remembering the fiery warmth that took over her senses, burning her nose with the smell of ash, lighting up her eyes like fireworks, scorching everything around her.
Remembering the smell of burning paper that accompanied the screams. The sound of that voice that once happily shouted her name, now shrieking it in sorrow and pain.
Remembering the idle and happy conversations she had with a girl with an unnatural yellow rose as they wandered the gallery that was once teeming with life.
Remembering someone named Mary, with the sunshine hair and ocean blue eyes and the sea green dress, who was never truly alive.
But Mary's gone now, isn't she.
A young girl wanders through a quiet and empty gallery.
Remembering what once was.
Remembering a boy named Garry, who doted on her and cared for her like an older sibling would. That when she met him, he already thought of her as someone he needed to protect from the dangers of that world.
Remembering the odd coat he always wore that was ripped and tattered, as if it once had burned.
Remembering the unusual purple color of his hair, probably dyed as the roots were starting to show; so unlike the blue that he holds.
Remembering the feel of his lighter in her palm, the warmth it emitted still strong in her hand and in its plastic confines.
Remembering the stuttering mess that Garry was when he was faced with all the frightening situations that world had to offer.
Remembering how determined he was to make that exchange.
"It's alright, Ib. Go on ahead. I'll come running when you need me"
A young girl stops at the edge of a painting called, "The Abyss of the Deep".
Remembering the adventure, the laughter, the chatter.
Remembering the friendship she made with both yellow and blue.
Remembering the fear of the unknown, waiting just around the corner.
She sees another painting, "The Fabricated World".
She continues walking.