A slash of vibrance, formed with a confident stroke of the artist's brush. They grew to form a scene. You stepped out of the limo in your stilettos and a wave of flickering light washed over you. Red-polished nails clutched the snakeskin bag as you stood before the paparazzi, bedecked in your gaudy jewels that were considered most fashionable. Of course it did not matter whether they were fashionable or not, because you set the trend. You did not care where they came from, so long as they featured you on the front page. And you took a first step down the red carpet in your stilettos, your designer gown trailing behind you- the life you once knew. And they did not care either- that you were just a painted school girl. They did not care where you ended up. But waited eagerly for that stumble on the red carpet. The rain fell on the tragic scene, washing the colours away.