brooklyn

So she was just walking down the path to home...

Her Death; Being out at night never settled well with her. Brooklyn was fifteen years old and on her way home from the market; her mother had sent her out to fetch fresh bread. Odd and famililar noises surrounded her, causing her to turn her head left and right - a motion becoming quite the habit. Rustling bushes to her right lead to her feet slowing to a stop and her heart beginning to race. Slowly, the snow haired girl fixed her eyes in the previously-moving brush. All was quiet.

'I have to hurry home,' she thought frantically.

Brooklyn held tight to the bag and took of running as fast as her young legs would take her, but as luck would have it, she passed under a willow tree; her feet caught on protruding root and she went flying, thrusting her hands before her in an attempt to break her fall. She gasped when she hit the ground, pain coursing through her body from various points - her bloody, skinned hands and knees, twisted ankle, and more-than-likely broken wrist. Her eyes stung with tears as she pulled herself from the ground, and she screamed when she felt something grab her twisted ankle. Brooklyn jerked her head down, her eyes growing wide.

"G-Get off me!" she yelled.

A man had her foot locked between his hands. He was bloody and grinning sadistically. Brooklyn's vision was blurred from tears and her body was aching, but she screamed for the man to let her go and for someone to help her. Finally, the man stood, pulling something dark from his pocket that, when he moved it a certain way, shined. A dagger.

Brooklyn was breathing heavily, and her mind had drawn a complete blank. A sound behind her coaxed her attention away from the knife-wielding man to another man. This one wasn't bloody, but he had the same grin. He lunged at Brooklyn, pulling and holding her hands behind her back and forcing her to look up, leaving the sensitive flesh of her neck exposed. The two men laughed. The man with the dagger stepped close and pressed the sharp end of the blade against her neck. The metal was cool against her fear-heated skin. Brooklyn let out pained croak as the man drug the blade from right to left across her neck.

Then, the man behind her losened his grip, letting Brooklyn fall into a motionless heap on the dirt. But she wasn't dead; the gash in her neck wasn't deep enough. She knew she'd bleed out and die before she knew it. The two men laughed again, and one of them, Brooklyn couldn't tell which, kicked her over the edge of a hill. She rolled quickly, landing loudly in the river at the bottom.

Brooklyn was floating face up, looking up at the willow that had so unregrettably caused her death. Her oddly colored orbs were no longer visible as her eyelids closed lightly over them.

'Never trust a willow...'

Life After Death; Birds were chirping softly in the trees alongside the river. It was early morning, which meant that most animals were out and about - squirrels, rabbits, and even a few chipmunks. Brooklyn was watching enviously from the hollow of her willow tree. She loathed the many creatures in the surrounding area, loathed how much they seemed to be enjoying life. Brooklyn could never do that. Her life was taken from her by two men for fun. She never did anything to deserve being killed.

'But that was years ago...' she though.

A few hundred years, to be exact. Brooklyn hardly ever thought of it. Only for a few moments in the mornings. But then her attention was drawn away by passers by. The world had certainly come a long way since she was living. She could see the tops of tall buildings in the distance. There were these big metal things with wheels passing by every few minutes. 'Cars', she thought she remembered hearing a walker say once to another. She didn't really care - they smelled bad and she wanted nothing to do with them.

Now she often sits, just watching, just waiting, for someone to hopefully stop.

[[Ooc; I'll fix it later. xD]]