Morning

Morning. It spells a lot for her.
It is the imaginary hope, the sudden breakthrough. The invisible sun that rises ever-so-slowly, the black backdrop lighting up. It is the struggling flame that trembles at every gush of wind. It stays there, fading a little, only to come back alive, stronger than before. The cycle repeats. It is the powerful echo of the drums, signalling victory. This, is what it means to Andrea.

Yet she is draped with darkness, the sin swooping over her shoulders, engulfing her heart. Night, night. Not even the luminous glow of the moon can be enough for her thirst. She wants hope. She wants to see the light. Selfish desire, indeed. For they are eternally bound to darkness, fear, dread and terror. A curse that sets a chilling breeze down their spines. It is the constant reminder of their retribution. Andrea stares up, at the ceiling. How long more...?

The four cold walls are suffocating. They are pressing down on her, mocking her attempts to breathe. Cackles erupt from them, and she shudders. It will be time before she is released. Patience, she reminds herself. She hugs her pitieous soul, wrapping her arms around her sorry fate. She is innocent, yet tainted by the sins of her family. She laughs at how ironic it sounds. Just convicted because of her father's sin of stealing bread.

Well, at least they serve us food here, good job, dad, she muses sarcastically.

Andrea pushes her messy hair away from her face, sighing. How has everything changed? It is too dark for her to even see her own fingers. They feel bony, rough. The air is musty, stuffy and cold. Perhaps it would be soon; she has lost count of the dates. Night forever hangs upon her, there is no warmth of the sun, not even the directing twinkle of the stars.

"112, time to leave." The hoarse chuckling of the guard.

She smirks. Perhaps they might execute her in the night, just to torture her further? She gets up from the corner and strolls casually out of the cell. The dust that swirls around her form is barely visible. Maybe they were kind enough to let her taste the sun for the last time? She allows the guard to hold her hands, tying them with a rope, using more brute force than necessary. She winces, glaring at him. He is amused, rolling his eyes.

With pride, she struts out of the prison, dragging the guard along with her. The sun is glaring, blinding her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she beams and giggles, feeling the sunlight pour onto her fragile body. She breathes in deeply, hoping to forever remember the air of freedom. Morning, morning, morning. This was her breakthrough. Though it was only temporary, she nods wisely, peeking at the guard. He is stationary, waiting for her to lead the way. Perhaps he was kind enough to only let her enjoy this last moment.

"Let's see the blood and gore! Move on!" She squeals delightedly, making the guard stare in disbelief at her.

She tugs lightly on the rope, a wry smile taking over her grin. He trots in front of her, grunting occasionally. Finally, she arrives at the execution stage. It seems almost amusing; so many of those people who didn't even spare her a glance when she begged for food, now here to witness her death. Maybe people were sadistic. Excited chatters filled the area.

"What date is it?" she mouths to the guard.
"Second July," he murmurs back.

She nods anxiously. Her birthday. And also her death day. How amusing.

"Any last words!" A shout is heard.

The shuffling of feet as the crowd squeeze forward to hear her.

She rolls her eyes and gives a noble toss of her head, "Well... Good morning everyone! It seems my birthday wish is fulfilled!"

She shuts her eyes firmly, inhaling as much of the morning air as she can.

blackout.