Death’s Dream

Clothed in the night, she walked amongst the hidden tribulations veiled thinly and pressed firmly into the world. Her eyes reflected only the stagnant light of stars long dead as she descended. She was the embodiment of darkness, skin rustic and ruddy that greedily soaked up the sun and glimmered like the full moon. She was deadly, if the essence of finality could take form. To see her was to recall your favorite memories; of melted ice cream cones and a cacophony of laughter. Her presence separated the bad from good and prepares you for final judgement.

But even death has dreams and hers were weaved with the hope that we all have for our lives, that we have fulfilled our purpose and left an imprint that will last for longer than the span of our days.

She searched for hope.

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