Pearl

As the pale morning sun broke the foggy night's sky, light was returned to the realm. People emerged. Animals emerged.

She emerged. Her hair delicate and soft like strands of silk and her eyes, crystals in the weak morning light. Her skin

the colour of a pearl, and the texture of one also. She glowed in the light, like an angel come down from heaven.

She arose from her slumber and delicately dressed herself in a white ribbon dress. It was white and laced with a

few precarious pastel blue ribbons slipping from the mainframe of the dress. Her shoes were light and soft, making the

padding sound of a newborn kitten as she walked. She tottled through the pasages of her home and reached the exit to the

winding corridors of this maze. She opened the door.

The light splitted from its partners to illuminate the house. She was blind for just one second. She opened her

eyes. She saw bustling crowds of rough and ready soldiers, drinking away their childhood, into their newly aquired manhood

as a noble soldier. Fruit stands, and meat stands, all fresh from the farms this morning. She reached into her deeply set,

disguised pocket and found... Nothing. Her parents didn't leave her anything.

They died just a week ago. They left all their money to their son, Jackson, and they left the house to this girl,

we all now know as Pearl. Her parents were nobles, graced by the king to their court. Pearl's family had always been nobles,

advisors to the ignorant, power - hungry monarchy. But, Pearl, she was too smart, un-natural. She was disgraced to live in

forever shame as she outsmarted the monarchy, and that was not allowed! She was looked down on, not just because of her

height, but because the rumour was spread she attempted to overthrow the King. Which was indeed, not true.

Now stood in the market she remembered, her shame. She was charged more, looked down on, spat on! Her life, what

was left of it, had been destroyed. She thought of making a scene, truly assaulting someone. No. That was not good enough.

She needed the attention of all of those who shunned her. An idea sprung in her head like a rabbit away from the hungry fox.

The idea punched at the sides of her head, hurting and hurting. Headache after headache. Memories lost. Happy feelings...

Gone.

A knife, this was an easy tool. She once again, in the yet sinister morning light, opened her door and let the

light invade her home for the last time. The knife in hand. The words in her head. It was time. She pushed and shoved through

the crowds and sliced at things in her way. The city square. There were no bodies, just eyes, watching her. Locking their

gazes. She spoke the words loud and clear, "Danas ja uzeti moj život, hvala vam svima. Bila sam posramljena.

Zaћaliжeљ zbog svoje odluke."

The knife.

She tugged.

It came.

She fell.

Her pale and frail body lying in the centre, pouring, she drifted off to her final sleep.