Soulless

Cerise

"Cerise, wake up, Cerise you must, your mother, she is dying!" The maid beckons, a look of pure despair flashes in her eyes, "Cerise, awaken, please , you must see her before she passes away." The maid screams at the little girl with sorrow, until she opens her eyes, cerulean in colour. "Yes, Azura," she says with utter calm, as she gathers up her flimsy white nightgown and slides of the side of the bed. The maid, straightening her crumpled apron, lined with ruffles and white lace, sighs and follows the girl down the hallway, lined with paintings of peaceful lakes and various flowers, and into a large room, at the end of the hall.

As the wooden door swings open, the delicate smell of lavender consumes the air, and the window, covering half of one wall, is open, and fresh air drifts in and out of the room, of which the walls are painted white, and upon them, dried and framed flowers hang, rattling occasionally with the spring winds. "Thank you for bringing her Azura, you may leave now, take the rest of the day off if you like, but before that bring us up some Rose tea." A woman with ill health croaks from beneath the covers of the large bed, at the centre of the room. "Cerise, you must understand, I will have to leave soon, and when the time comes, I will not come back, the winter of early this year has left me bed ridden, sick beyond the help of medicine, Cerise, my darling, once I go, Azura will help you to live your life without me, and you will be happy. Azura will teach you whatever you need to know, and will provide for you as I have done in the past, please stay safe, for me, Cerise." And with that the woman holds out her hand, "promise me Cerise, that you will live your life to help others and will always have hope."
"I promise." Cerise whispers, holding her mother's hand, until it turns cold and slumps down, lifeless onto the soft covers, " I promise." She repeats, and closes her eyes, trying to prevent the flood of tears.