In correspondence to a sketch in my notes and with a discussion we had in the wee hours of Chat about FFO fanfiction. Kat presents...a very serious and depressing drabble. That means one-hundred words. I am trying very hard to fill up this spot because I don't want any of the short tale to be spoiled. Trip, I am sorry.
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She was but a child.
She wasn’t meant for this.
There in front of her, she had witnessed death. She had lost a sister.
Her hands trembled on the box that suddenly felt so much heavier. The burden of responsibility, the looming authority of fate…it was all too much.
She screamed.
But at the same time, she couldn’t let go. The box, it ached, wanting to continue on. If the child became lost, it would all go to waste.
Yet she still couldn’t move.
The conflict in the young girl’s heart could only be resolved by her, with her hands.
