[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]
If there was ever a moment when she needed a light to save her, it was now.
She could feel the darkness, the blackness that never strayed too far from its home within her barreled chest, encroaching nearer and nearer to her heart. She stared into the grave, suppressing every flash of memory that flittered through her mind like dead leaves on a gust of wind in the hopes that the pain within her would be dulled to raw hammering within her rib cage. Each breath came as a struggle for her. Each blink of her witch hazel eyes was a war, her lashes battling against the moistness that gathered there to carry her away.
However, she would not suffer only to let the darkness finally claim her soul. Instead, with fists clenching the pearl beads of the rosary into the fair skin of her palm, she made a vow to survive this inescapable disaster. Unlike those before her, she wouldn’t surrender until she had accomplished everything that was within her power to set right the grievous atrocities decaying beneath her scuffed black heels.
A prayer barley had escaped her pink frosted lips before she allowed her closed hands to release the rosary onto the pile of fresh dirt.
Hell was brewing and only one without a soul could stand up to the flames before her.