[Rolaoi]

Hi all, this is a rough draft for a story I'm developing(and I do mean rough). I hope you enjoy it, even if it is untidy and unfinished as of yet. Thanks for reading.

~Rolaoi

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The flowers were blooming as she was dying. In her fading eyes, the soul passed away. It floated on the wind like so many petals around her.

The air was fresh. The sun was down. All was quiet and asleep. She was over the fence and then through the door. Along the hall there were paintings and trinkets. She was tempted, but held fast to her desire for a larger prize. There, at the end of the hall was a door way. It creaked in such a way that she held her breath. No one came. She pushed her way through.

A bed, a fat man, a prize. It hung on a hook, a necklace with a large diamond. In her head came thoughts of a life without constant theft, and where she was something more. Her hands trembled as she reached up to grab the stone. It was cold and heavy. There was no breath in her body, and then it fell from her hands. A crash and the man woke. She snatched up the trinket and fled. From behind her a cry of thief, thief rang out, but she was out the door.

It seemed the world around her came to life. The sun was now out, and people were beginning their routine. The flowers were just starting to bloom. At the edge of town she could feel her escape. Her hand was grabbed and she fell to the ground. A large man held her firm.

They took her before the noble she had stolen from. Death. The large man held his blade over her head later that day. There was no escape, no hope. The flowers were now in full bloom. The blade came down. Her life ended.

She took all this in as she stood breathless with her hope dangling in front of her. She just needed to reach out and pluck it from that hook. Her quivering hands reached out to take that stone. It was cold and heavy. Her hand slipped. It fell to the floor with a loud crash.
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Talked to a man who caught the
raninbow's end he found
That the pot of gold resided within
Fame~Citzen Cope

Nom d'amour~ Rolex

[Allicat]

The first bit confused me slightly, it kinda sounded like you were talking about someone else, but I like how it switches seamlessly from her imaginings to reality.
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He who does not eat cheese will go mad. ~ French proverb.

Keeper of the fallen leaves. 'Cos they're still pretty.