In Love With A Werewolf

The wind swirls around a stick-thin girl, shoving the rain into her face so that it slaps at her cheeks. She is minuscule, short and skinny, her eyes a brilliant green that shines like emeralds. However, thick glasses hide their spectacular beauty, with lenses that dull her eyes' brightness and color. Her soft, wavy hair is a startling red, cutting off abruptly at the shoulders, giving her a childlike face to match her childlike body.

She is sitting, her thin dress sticking to her soaked skin as the rain pounds even more determinedly on her form, on the muddy ground. Thunder roars over her head, crackles of lightning striking the air. All she sees is darkness. For her, there is nothing but darkness.

She knows she is in danger of dying. The lightning is close, and if one tree catches on fire, the whole forest will burn. She has nowhere to hide if that happens, no one to call for help. Her cell phone lies beside her, dead from the constant downpour of water. However, it is easy for her to stay calm.

Life is not important to her anymore, though, so she does not care if she sizzles away.

A single tear evacuates her eye, swimming down her cheek, joining the rivers of water that rushes down her body. A living nightmare surrounds her, the terrible breeze slamming the rain into random destinations, the plants swaying. A tree is close to falling on her, leaning her way, precariously close to breaking away from its trunk.

She barely notices that she is crying heavily, her tears accompanying the storm's efforts to make her as miserable as possible. She feels dirty, the mud giving her a sick feeling in her stomach. On a whim, she wishes for a hot shower, with warm steam embracing her.

Movement is impossible for her.

She wants to end it here. Right now. It would be so easy... so sweet as the pains of life would fade away. She wonders why God had to give her the ugly face, the childlike form, and the snobby attitude that made so many people hate her.

Why does she have to be the unlucky one?

Now she cannot see, the rain blinding her. Her glasses slide off her nose, falling to the ground, the glass quickly sinking into the dirt. Unbelievably, the water starts to pour even harder from the hectic skies, temperature dropping by the second. Goosebumps appear on her arm. Her breaths become visible, clouds appearing in wisps directly in front of her.

The cold gets worse.

She looks to the ground, uncertainty in her features. Is she really ready to let herself die here? Is it time for her to leave this world?

A tiny sliver of fear enters her thoughts.

She realizes quickly that these may be her last breaths. She tries to savor each of them, reaching with a delicate hand to try to catch the clouds that lingered before her. The question pounds in her head, making her dizzy.

Is she truly ready to die?