A Satanic Smile

She ran. Her feet were bloody, but she still ran. Her thighs were burning with a vengeance only known to that of her nerves, but she still ran. Her vision blurred from the fiery onset of tears, but she still ran. The arm to the left was broken, the bone poking through the skin as a mast to a sail. A silver blade an extension of her ribcage. She ran faster. Breathing erupted in gasping hiccups, desperately trying to grasp what is not theirs. An invisible piece of Earth protruded and faltered her run into a feeble stumble. She slumped to the ground, unrecognizable to the world around her. Heaving dry an empty stomach brought a grimace to her homely features. A crimson puddle stained the soft grass beneath the fallen's lithe form. Mind shutting down, she curled upon herself in a last attempt at salvation... salvation failed.

They weep for a shell long lost to those who cared enough. The smiles sardonic, and unforgiving of the grief. A priest of secret sins, religion long abandoned, blessed the empty corpse. They fabricated a conception of love and loss, for a show to those whose passers by do not care.

Another forgotten. Another victim. Another satanic smile to that of its dictum.