The moon glows against the darkened sky, it’s imperfections hidden from the world. The sky is overcast- should one hope to wish on a star, they would not prevail. Still, the moon watches the waves below her, as they crash into one in another, blues and greens and whites. When the moonshine hits the waves, they shimmer blue but otherwise, the ocean is rippling black silk, veiling chaos beneath its beauty.

Petunia trudges up the dark hill, pushing her bike beside her and trying to make sure her arms didn’t give up. The ocean was singing a song of sorrow and sadness, the waves sliding down the sand in pity. She looks out towards the ocean and just listens. Every day, the ocean mourned, but she could never figure out who it grieved over. 

The stars fight their way through the clouds that dispose of their tears in hopes of catching a glimpse of the fallen child. She sinks lower and lower, her dress billowing out around her. She is delicate and looks to be made of porcelain. One may have assumed she was a doll if she wasn’t jerking so sharply. Her face is a painting of twisted emotions and brutal strokes- her hands, small gentle hands that have held and loved, they search for purchase, but the ocean is merciless. The ocean does not help the girl. The waves laugh loudly as the moon watches somberly.

And then, she goes still. She falls further and further into the depths of darkness. Death makes her entrance and reaches her ancient hands out to hold the girl. But just as she does, the waves stutter. They shudder in fear and go quiet as another melody enters their symphony. Here comes a song of love and sorrow. Of loss and tragedy. Death halts to listen.

The moon watched. She saw everything as the sunset. She saw the doll crack beneath the surface. Yet nothing was done to prevent it.