Amaris was a little girl on this dreadful day, only six years of age. Amaris's mother was staring into her blank eyes and combing her fingers through her long brown hair. Amaris was dying. The moon shone bright through her window. Her mother weeping quietly by her bedside. Amaris looked at the moon, suddenly feeling strength, which quickly faded and her existence did at the same time. The grim reaper won, Amaris was no longer alive. She was frail and delicate as a baby and had heart problems. Her mother accepted her death. But didn't leave her side. The moon's light suddenly intensified, a beam of moonlight went to her chest, a pearlescent beam of beautiful, dancing moonlight. She started floating, not very high, but she was floating. Her mother stood in awe, watching the beam of moonlight circling her as she floated. She landed softly on her bed, and her hair changed to the same pearlescent white as the beam of moonlight. Her eyes opened, but they weren't the dark brown color like before, they were an icy blue, almost white, like the moon. Her mother gasped and staggered backwards. "Mother," Amaris said, "I'm alive."
