A black rose

Previously

…It was a shroud, a protection, and a prison, all at once. As she walked, her bare feet sinking slightly into the soft earth, she caught sight of Old Man Hemlock on his porch. He wasn’t looking directly at her, but she felt his gaze, a silent, steady presence that offered no judgment, no fear, only a quiet observation. It was a flicker of something new in her desolate landscape, a tiny ember of possibility in the overwhelming darkness. But for now, the pain of the sun was her only companion, and the whispers of ‘ghoul’ the only song the village sang. She was a prisoner of the light, a soul yearning for a dawn she could never truly embrace.