The blackness descended like mascara streaming down a widow's cheek.
Suffocating the stars and the moon with a terrifying darkness.
Father sprinted along the the rain drenched pathway.
Oblivious to the icy cruel wind that clawed its way through the twisted trees.
His child was missing.
He ran past the little cemetery where his heart was buried and his wife lay sleeping.
All the way down to the bottom of the hill, where despair and misery lay waiting.
Broken and abandoned in a lonely ditch.
He fell to his knees.
The strings cut from a marionette.
His hands frantically clawing at the wet leaves that covered her little body.
Lifting his dead daughter to his chest with trembling arms.
"Zana!" Father screamed into the howling wind.
He kissed her cold forehead.
Painting a miserable picture with his lips on a tiny pale canvas.
Bitter brushstrokes of overwhelming loss.