The wrongest day

She sat cross legged on the floor. A smashed lamp was crumbled beneath her hand, sharp edges tinged bright red. Her hair was in disarray and she stared at some non-existent something many yards beyond the facing wall. She had been like this for hours now, motionless, soundless, devoid of emotion and unaware of the world moving forward without her.

The day had started well enough. Naturally bubbly she had chatted carelessly with friends and strangers at a local coffee shop and had made small talk with the cashier at the local supermarket before she had taken that bike ride.

The lamp was not the only thing that was crushed; her spirit had been ripped to shreds. In the canyon her world exploded, dreams and hopes replaced by horror and emptiness. The evil was consuming her, sucking the life from her and replacing it with darkness. Her soul, beaten and violated was so far within that even she could not reach it.

She had no idea how she had managed to get home. None of it mattered anyway – nothing at all was important now. Or perhaps it was important but she didn’t care – she didn’t know. She was utterly and completely lost.