She stands inflexibly erect, shivers atop her heavy – handed sheet – she will need to take this sudden prepped steps per time
For her friend has been waiting with a bated breath – it appears to be cold, quite unnerving for its suspended worth, and plays with the Winter air which it took to garnering outside en route
Tantalised to a most precious extent, of course said friend is but a ghostly figure now having lost her beautiful life a mere week ago
This room is choked by an intricate, quite telling kind of a pain, her people finally taking it upon themselves to sit to kneel to weep right by her empty frame
Yet, like she said, she is there: always and forever, holding a thorned black rose centre stage, willing to listen ’til the saddening conclusion
Strange for its seriously unfamiliar, rather otherworldly occurence but this shall have to be simply sensational
No – one believes ’til they must believe
If only the remainder could see her though
It hurts to see her here, dressed precisely as she was right when it had to happen– minus the unremarkable splay of unsettled blood, less any of the pain aside panic – stricken frustration
She’d to watch herself die outright
Next, she reaches out her ethereal arm and troubles her best – friend to begin
“For Orla…”

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