Blue House Blues

There was a little girl with reddish brown curls leaning over the twisted metal railing of her porch. Her skin was so white, spotted only with pale freckles, that she stood out so perfectly against the blue house behind her. The sun crawled across the lawn at an extremely slow rate, but her arms were stretched out, trying to catch a little yellow on her finger tips. Her feet were covered in mud and little pieces of grass. Her toes were on their very tip, trying to get just a smidgen more distance. It was almost there. It seemed to be right under her hand. A soft grunt slipped from her lips as she pushed her self a little further. The rail pushed against her ribs, then into her stomach. The sun was so close, she was sure it was warmth she felt. But something else was rolling across the lawn, just behind the sunlight. It was a cold darkness. It swept across the damp grass faster than the sunlight, eating all the yellow rays as it went along. Before a single beam hit her fingers there was a drop of rain. Hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her inside. At the window of the blue house, the little girl sat all day waiting for the sun to come back.