Ghostland

There she was walking. No cares, not a bother. On a land that was far from where she'd been raised. Walking with blisters. And the scream of her mother. Untouched by the moods of the shivering space.

The shadows did gather, the mist would surround her. And yet she kept walking, walking away. Through the mud and the holes on that spiralling way. Praising the lord for the unseen and the strange.

Yet the fog would grow deeper. In her limbs it would reach her. Finding her, blinding her, hiding her way. She knew it would be there, she knew she would be bare. The space and the time would collide in one day.

But in the days following, still she'd be walking. Roaming through nights with the ghosts in her soul. You can't see her body, her nakedness fading. You notice the footprints on the dusty road.