Her quiet haven, her coral realm – so that she called her old garden full of long twisting paths that vein-went through its big overgrown heart. Light bridges, squeaky stairs and wooden pavilions that still keep traces of long-forgotten memories.


    All alone she went – a tall dark figure in a long cloak. Her steps sank in the soft bright carpets of the autumn. Pale colourless eyes glide slowly on the wild blaze of colours. Something is missing here. Something from the past…


    Little gesture, white fingers snap in the frosty air – and the burning hawthorn branches bloom with buds of jade-black roses. Compelled by a quick impulse, they fill the air with a rain of fallen petals. Feeling their red silk on her lips she smiles and sighs to herself. Sharp thorns are ready to pierce the thick air yet are unable to pierce her cold heart. One single drop of blood hesitates for a second before breaking into a thousand pieces of red whortleberry.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    A scarlet whirlpool of dance makes her memories pass in a wild blur of a kaleidoscope. The curtain falls, covering bare feet of cold trees. She vanishes in the deep silence among the amber-frozen dreams, and the pure snowflakes of ashes cover her light footprints on the ground.