All that Remains

Of Diamonds and Fire

     The girl of a heart glass, who taught how to love, who touched hearts of others, reinforced with steel and liquified it so simply by doing so. The girl of diamond tears, who brought those around her to a similar position simply because she was. The girl of paper skin, who could so easily be seen through and passed carelessly over. The girl of starry eyes, who inspired others to dream when looking upon them. The girl who could fly.

     Except that day, the girl of paper skin and a heart glass and starry eyes and diamond tears did not fly, she never had. She lay on the wooden floors, stained red by the blood others, stained red by the fires around her, stained red by the blood of herself. And that was when it became known; yes, this girl had wings, but they were wings of fire, and would singe her every time she spread them and tried to take to the sky.

     Except that day, she had dared to push herself past take off, dared to actually fly, to make the journey, and she perished and fell from the heavens in which she must have been created to be such a wonderful thing. That day, the stars had fled from her eyes, the glass inside her chest had shattered, leading it and the translucent blood that was inside to stop beating, her paper skin burned to ashes, the only thing of her that remained were the diamond tears of her own, stolen by those who dared grieve such a person, for they had run out of their own tears, and normal ones would not suffice, not for this beauty, consumed by her own flame.