~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦
The life of Sasha Bycroft
The waves crashed against
the rocks ferociously as Sasha Bycroft strolled alongside the isolated Cliffs of
Dover, her feet trudging in the soft sands bordering the cliff sides. Her mind was
occupied with her ponderings as usual, but today was different. Her thoughts
attacked her with the pain of her childhood, the sorrows of her past, annihilating
all of her cherished memories. Sasha shook her head, trying to get the moments
of hurt to evacuate her asylum of her juvenile memories. She took a deep breath,
determined to be strong. She was too stubborn to let tears brim in her eyes,
too obstinate to show that inside, she felt like she was being ripped to pieces.
Her body shook of the coldness of her heart, which pumped out the rhythm of the
life she had been leading: a dull, soundless pulse, injecting the poison of her
misery through every artery and vein, leaving them lifeless, cold, and
shrivelled. All that remained of Sasha Bycroft was an inert, apprehensive,
anxious young girl, unfit for the surprises of life to jump out and tease her.
All because of her childhood memories.
~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦~♦