fuchsia

prelude

She awoke in the midst of dimness with bulgy eyes as well as a burning sensation around her mouth. Her vision grew blurry witnessing patchy droplets encompassing her; the ambience seemed noteworthy, the embodiment of a surreal painting.
A immense ball of flame; rising. She gazed upon the immeasurable artistry creating her prospering tan eyes to twinge.
She'd seemingly overlooked this for no more than 5 or so minutes yet the unison of the pale white window and the yellowish tinged orb kept her gaze enticed.
The covers felt so pleasant, smothering her skin she found the upmost amount of comfort absorbed by it. It acted as a barrier from the bitter air filling the room, it would take further budging to prevent herself from falling into an intense slumber.
She knew she'd have to depart from the shelter the covers had valiantly given her, deserting her. She'd have to face unpleasant winds by herself, the willpower she possessed lacked; she would rather stay a prisoner under covers than face the burdens placed upon her.
Moving softly, she stretched protruding her arms into the air like a dagger; she hastily wrapped herself in a robe of sorts, caressing her frail body the ashy decrepit robe clung onto her creating an apologetic sight.
The room enclosing her was disorganised, books lying shamefully on the chestnut oak flooring held in place with a dozen rusted amber nails, concealing these nails were piles of cloth layered creating a repulsive tower of blackened clothes.
On the surface of the whitened windowsill were decaying plants shedding cocoa coloured leaves, causing the dying seeds to sprawl over the sill like a battle cry.
She slowly walked towards the door, draped in coats worn by nature and age; the door was significantly taller than her as well as naturally older than her, so much so it released an agonising scream whenever it moved.