Beneath the leafless oak she lies.
Her cries now feeble and weak.
As she draws her final breaths the moon looks on.
Her light creating a macabre illumination.
Yellow hair, its lustrous beauty now dull and caked in blood.
Fingernails in their gaudy red lacquer – torn and broken.
The furrows in the damp earth below her – etchings of terror.
He has already turned his back on her,
He knows it will not be long.
Even in these last moments he is in control.
Leaving a trace of life… a flicker.
A pain filled ebbing away,
Alone – on that cold woodland floor.
Hands and feet bound in gaudy pink twine.
Young life extinguished – snuffed out as casually as a candle.
The wind stirs the fallen leaves on the ground and they dance.
She has a shallow grave of autumnal browns and reds.
For now the trees hold the secret.
Pale slender form, still and silent, hidden in the leaves.