esmeralda fawcett {{ six . finished

The woman's features will pale as snow, her body as cold as ice. Her diaphanous skin gleams in the sunlight. She lays on a bed of satin, one of her requests before her untimely demise. A cumbersome man and a young girl stand before her casket. A frown was etched upon the man's face, but any expression on the girl's was virtually devoid. The young lady's body was bound in lace, her caramel fingers barely visible in floral mesh patterns that were engraved into the dress. Today was not a good day for the Fawcett family, the mother passed away after giving birth to a baby girl. The family was celebrating the new child when they got the news. The maid bustled into the room, blood staining the white fabric on her uniform. We all knew what happened before the maid could open her mouth. The Fawcett family was never that lucky when it comes to the cycle of life and death.

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Life resumed in the Fawcett family. It was three years ago that Yolanda Fawcett was laid to rest, her baby daughter was now three and her oldest was eighteen. Esmeralda and Yanet weren't close, even though the were siblings. Yanet, who could barely speak a couple words, always kept her distance and started crying when she was near Esmeralda. Esmeralda didn't care though, she has kept her distance from everyone else since her mother died. She preferred the silence, her own thoughts that occupied her mine were plenty. Sometimes, she still feels like she is laying down on her mother's lap, talking about their troubles to each other. It was comforting for them to have that bond together, like they were best friends instead of a mother-daughter pair. That was why it was so hard on Esmeralda, because in that day she didn't just lose a mother, she lost a best friend.

Esmeralda changed drastically over those three years. She was a thin girl before, her ribs barely visible, now her ribs poke through her chest. She doesn't eat as much as she used too, maybe one meal a day. She isn't hungry anymore, she doesn't really feel anything anymore. A part of her heart and soul died when her mother did. Her mother was once a beautiful dancer, she had silky brown hair that danced when she spun and leaped. Esmeralda had inherited that trait from her, but Esmeralda had always preferred curls to locks. So she changed it, tight curls that sat neatly upon her head. It wasn't enough once her light flickered out. Esmeralda straightened out her hair to look how her mother's did, it was one of the things she did to feel closer to her mother.

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Dancing was never a strong suit for Esmeralda. Before she died, Yolanda, taught her daughter the key points on how to move herself to the beat of rhythm. Yolanda was gifted in the art of dancing because she put in hours of grueling practice, Esmeralda was good, but she didn't want to put in the time and effort to become a exceptional dancer. After her mother's death, Esmeralda become more devoted to dancing, like it was a way to connect to her mother, even in death. She put more time into the delicate art, teaching herself and never forgetting what her mother taught her. The fluid craft was hard on her at first, bruises and small cuts weren't uncommon in her first few days, but as time went on she landed on her feet. For three years she practiced dancing, and she finally believed that her mother would be proud of who she had became.

Esmeralda wasn't only blank stares and a fluid body, she was still a person, no matter how much she acted like a zombie. She was quite an a exuberant person before, a joyful smile and euphoric eyes. It gave life to the family, who went through hard times when money wasn't coming in as much as it used too. It wasn't all smiles anymore, finger-tips laced with sorrow and eyes filled with despondency. The family wasn't as tight-knit as the used to be. People expected them to get over it, and Esmeralda's father displays a facade of bliss. You wouldn't want the entire district to know that your family isn't united. Life wasn't easy for them because Yolanda was like the matriarch of the family, she was always there for everyone. Esmeralda always came to her for support, her mother stroked her hair and gave her counsel.

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Esmeralda isn't the same anymore. Everyone could see that, she wasn't a ray of sunshine, now more like a beam of darkness. Nobody really liked being around her anymore, she never acknowledges anyone when they talk to her, she just gives a blank stare. She still had emotions, but she didn't want to show them in front of people anymore. Whenever she started talking her voiced hitches and tears threatened to fall out of her eyes. It was because when she starts to talk, memories of her and mother flash through her mind. Life wasn't as beautiful for the Fawcett family as it was when Yolanda was around, she was the pillar to their castle, the ray to their sunshine. Her death wasn't going to just blow over, it ran into them, a force that knocked them off their feet.

Esmeralda was hit the hardest, knocking her off her feet and taking the wind out of her. She still hasn't risen from the smoke and ashes rising from where the pillar crashed into the castle.

She lays in the ruins and hopes to see a ray of sunshine peeking through the ash-ridden sky.