Spoiler! :
She can’t get past the crows; they’re blocking her in. She’s pressed herself up against the wall, grimy with dirt and life and death. The crows are closing in, little feet tapping across the metal floor. The fear in her eyes is plain, desperate, pleading. They’re too green, almost artificially so, from the shining tears illuminating their colour. One crow flies in at last, beak opened slightly to utter a shrill cry and she closes her eyes. She hides.
*
Now she’s standing in a street, in nothing but a nightgown. The moon’s light is not shining, but hidden instead behind clouds. There’s no light to guide her way, let alone to help. She moves one dainty, skeletal foot forward. Heel then toes fall onto the cool pavement. But, no, it’s not cool nor is it the harshness of pavement. Instead she is now stepping on hot, roiling liquid fire, red and orange and yellow. It wraps around her foot, burning, scalding, until nothing is left but clean white bones. It fires its way up her leg, detaching the skin from her skeletal figure. And she just peels away, like there was nothing there in the first place.
*
It’s dark and quiet now. She can feel nothing except for her weightlessness. Why is she so light? Her arms, she moves down to her side and then run from her head, over her waist, her hips, her legs, down to the very tip of her toes. She is nothing. She is just bone and marrow; there is no flesh. And suddenly there is bright light, warm like the sun. It’s no sun, though, and instead the hanging sphere is a deep, blood red in a place of blinding white. It drips and the red droplet falls, feeling like eternity, before dropping down onto the white. More red falls until it forms a river with violent speed and it runs down toward her. She screams and begins to run, but somewhere she trips and falls and she breaks into a million bones and pieces. Right before her eyes is her skeleton hand and its index finger is tapping on the white. It’s impatient.
*
She can feel teeth. They scrape and grate and dig down into the center. It’s painful, a hot, white pain that sears into her very center. And then it multiplies by two, three, four and five. She realizes it is not she actually being bitten, but her bones. She cannot see, but she can feel now, unlike when in the white world. They bite deeper and she feels a snap, and then she is nothing again but just a pile of clean, white bones.
*
White and black all over. There is pain, there is blood, there is calm and there is senselessness. In all honesty, she can’t feel a thing. She loathes that.
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