Yvie Firmin
With silver eyes and tangled hair, she dangled her bare legs over the cliff face. Her palms were faced towards the full moon; she knew where to begin.
The forest held its breath as her pulse echoed off of the peeling bark, her gushing stream of vitality providing a whispered cadence. The gale danced and frolicked to the rhythm, forming feathery whirlpools and breaking up the veil of fog that lingered like a funeral shroud.
She barely noticed the mist lapping at her waist, entwining itself with long strands of ebony hair. The moon granted her a silver tether, hazing over her eyes and enrapturing her in a mindless euphoria.
“Impermanent girl,” the light seemed to whisper, “don’t you know?” In wordless response, her pupils widened. Nihility consumed vision.
Moonlight dripped across her skin, rippling evanescence. As divinity bled into carnality, it came to her. She knew how it ended.
–
Yvie is a student from the UK who adores English Literature. Her favourite genre is Gothic fiction, and if she sees a deranged and unreliable female narrator, she has a moral duty to read. She is obsessed with the moon, homeric epithets, wine-red, shoegaze, false dichotomies, and metaphors about consumption.
Diamond Gazette 