This was written for a contest that requires you to make something based on one of the three pictures they had. I chose one of a deserted park in fall. Hope you enjoy it.

The winds twisted gently through her hair, caressing her cheek as she stood in the deserted park. She stared blankly at the trees, devoid of life as they were seemed beautiful to her. The wind picked up slightly again, tossing strands of tangled, black hair in her face.

She paid no mind to it. Though the wind was turning colder the longer she stood there, the girl seemed oblivious.

Her mind slipped back to a different time. A different place. A different person.

Warm summer hair flowing around, just cool enough to take some of the heat out of the day. The sun shone brightly overhead, casting a glowing radiance over the world.

And so much laughter. Even his eyes laughed as he sang to her. The beauty of the yellowed, ivory keys still danced around her mind. How he'd made them play for her, coaxed a sweet song from them.

She absentmindedly touched her cheek where he had kissed it, years ago now. Still, she could feel the touch of his lips on her skin. It was a haunting memory.

He had said she was beautiful, flawed perfection in everyway. She had said he was simply perfect. A fairy tale romance forgotten by the world. Forgotten by everyone…except for her.

I'll take you away…we'll see the world. Just me and you…

He'd said it so many times. She smiled and nodded. She would live in a paper box under an overpass and be the happiest person in the world as long as he was by her side.

Was she truly the only one to remember? Remember how he had held her, how he had run his fingers her hair to comfort her, how he sang to her every night.
Her brown eyes threatened to overflow with tears. She knew he didn't remember, she alone did.

Perhaps soon no one would…

They would never be in the history books, a child's fairy tale…the obituaries at the most.

Pulling a worn green shirt tighter about herself, she bowed her head and kept walking through the park. Dead leaves the colour of fire crunched lightly under her feet. The only sound aside from birdsong in this dreary place.