The Flame Rekindled
The giant black scythe swung down. It was directed at the two little girls.
"No!"
The scream, ragged and painful, pierced the heavy quiet of the house.
In that moment, something in Clara broke. The emptiness within her evaporated, and a wild thirst for life surged in. She moved before she could think, before fear could halt her progress. Her exhausted body lunged between the descending scythe and her sisters.
*Clang!
* Her palms grasped the sharpened edge. The metal bit deep, cutting into flesh. Blood, warm and thick, immediately gushed down the dark blade and splattered the floorboards.
Her fingers screamed in protest. Her arms quivered violently under the overwhelming force. Yet...
She did not let go.
Not one inch, not while her sisters were behind her. Her breathing came raggedly. Every muscle screamed under the increased pressure. Then, slowly, she raised her head.
The listless, dead purple eyes, surrendered to hopelessness, were gone.
