Fleeting by Deepdarkwaters for sweetcarolanne
28 May 2016
There was a little girl in the long grass, about Pierrot's age: shy, trying to hide amongst the stalks and dandelion puffs, but with bright staring eyes like a tiger. She had postbox-red trainers on, beads of every colour threaded onto some of her curls, and polkadot patchwork pockets on her denim dungarees. Next to her Pierrot felt like a ghost: incorporeal, at risk of fading away on the breath of the breeze. Her costume felt like a big white smudge of nothingness next to a living breathing rainbow.