A/N: Please be aware that the character in this story is in no way a reflection of me. I am not depressed and am not thinking about suicide. I do realize this needs a huge amount of work, especially since this is my first short story. I don't really even want to call it that, as it has really no major plot and only one character who has lost her way in the cruel world. A character that I couldn't even name (and if you have any suggestions, they're more than welcome as I'm horrible with names!). A great deal of time has also passed since I've last written something, and I'm a bit rusty. It really doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but I kind of intended it to be that way, and it is a bit jumpy, which I will fix. I realize this needs to be revised and I will do so, but for now please be gentle with your comments. I could use some encouragement with my writing since I seem to have lost faith in myself as an author. Thank you.

Dark Storm Rising

Glazed eyes stared out across the silver expanse, grieving, choking, seeming…Her raven hair, burnished with scarlet streaks of the stormy crimson tide, snaked in the ebony sky, crowning her head in a sable aura. Tainted memories, etched into forever darkness, closed in on her…crying…dying… Slowly her amber eyes lifted to the heavens, pearls of tears marking their long forgotten course down her pallid cheeks. Time-weathered memories surrounded her, hunted her, snared her without regret. She became encompassed in a world filled with pain and misery and above all else, death. The wind and its unforgiving silence raced across the Cliffside, giving way to the powerful panic that engulfed her heart in a barricade of ice. It cut her thoughts piercingly, scarring the bitter part of her soul that still clung helplessly to a life…a love…she would never know again. She turned to look upon the ominous foamy sea, her dark garments blending with the empty charcoal sky. The stars were not there to protect her this night. No, the golden myriad of stardust and wishes had weaved their spell upon her the last time, but not this night. No, this was finally her time…her time for freedom at last.

She lifted her hand delicately in greeting to the deafening wind and paused, eyes alight with a fatal, mesmerized fire. She was the Flower of the Cold, the Daughter of Ice. It was time. Nothing stirred but the bleak waves that peaked in a triumphant race on the daggers far below. Her eyes cast upon the heavens, she began to weep more and more, her shoulders wracked with sobs. The silver web of denied dreams would no longer hold her back. Nevermore would she face the fears against the cruel serpent of love. She would no longer be held prisoner trapped in this world of cruel fate, desire…and passion. Oppressed and coerced, she gave one last enraged cry before running forward with a sudden violence, her arms spanning out to welcome the blackness that surrounded her, that created her. Yes, this was truly her time…her moment…her end. The darkness would indeed last forever.