A women dressed in a ratted down used apron, approached her converted studio table, or to the naked eye a cheap white plastic table from Walmart. To her it was everything she needed to work away the stress of the days, the anger and frustration developing more and more from the lack of sleep. Picking up an angular brush and dipping it into a deep steel blue she painted away.
Hours later the thwacking of the old wooden door swinging back and forth, indicating a storm was brewing woke her up from her daydream. She had by now, finished the painting and revealed in shock it was a grave. Startled the woman backed away causing her paints to spill out onto the floor, mixing into a muddy brown shades.Careful to step around the puddles she truly looked at the landscape that she somehow managed to paint without knowledge. How? Who’s grave is this? She thought. Cleaning the mess she left and climb up the stairs of her flat to sleep it off.
Gloomy and demented creatures crawling about. Ravens calling from beyond the trees. The women wide eyed, shocked and scared. Where was she? Running, running that\'s all she thought to do. Oh god, why me! A hand grabbed out to her and latched onto her ankle dragging her to the ground. Grabbing for a twig, something to stop the creature, she found a large rock. She twisted around and went to hit the animal. Wait it’s not an animal. Is that me?