Wandering Girl

Burried

The girl walks and walks and walks down the long hallway. It's cold and dark and bits of ash drift in the air, reminding her of something that makes her look up for more.

The place goes way up above her head, so much so she's not sure if she sees a ceiling. Just more darkness.

There should be dots up there. She found herself deciding. Or big puffs. It would feel much more familiar. She did not know why she thought this though.

She continued on.

The girl felt something thump against one of her slippers. She stops at the change.

She reaches down to the ash to find what was buried there.

A crumbling, wooden frame with broken glass emerges from the ash pile. She holds the square in her hands carefully.

I can't quite make out what this is. She thought. But it's not ash, so it must be something.

She turns the crumpled object in her hands. There's charred paper inside the wood.

But what is on the paper?

She didn't know, it was riddled with holes and very grey. She thought she's had enough of ashy grey and white today. She knew she didn't like the smell of smoke.

I don't know what I want exactly, but it's not this.

The girl, wary of the object, wiped away the soot from its surface. The dots drifted to the ground to rest with the others.

Some of the picture revealed itself, parts that hadn't lost itself to the smoke.

Oh! She thought. So that it is what you are. She examined the picture closely.

So that is what a real person looks like! She smiled as another realization passed her.
The picture was of a man, with a long face, and sharp chin.
He looked rather slim and had short, spiraling dark hair. His hat was as dark his hair, and his eyes looked light and cold.

The girl felt her face with her free hand, trying to decide if she looked as real as the person in the frame.

Do I look real? She thought silently to the picture. Am I a person like you? Who am I?

"Oh little princes." The picture-man spoke. "Are you still lost?"

"Yes." The girl said, confused. Do pictures normally speak?

"Do you even remember your name?" He asked now.

"Oh but I didn't know I had one, as people who aren't real don't have names." The girl's brow furrowed.

"That's what you think, princess. Are you sure you don't remember your name?"

"I think I'm searching for it."

"You're just one little crown without a kingdom, I'm not sure your going to just simply find it."

"I remember." She said solemnly to this. "I remember the letter A. I think that's just the start of my name, though."

"I hope what you find what your looking for, lost Princess A."

The floor started to pull her down, as the loose ashes seemed to give away like quicksand. She fearfully dropped the picture as she sank down into the ashes, bellow to wherever she was going.