Fall 511 AV
At first, there was nothing. And then slowly, painfully slowly, something muffled seemed to create itself from the nothingness. It was like sitting in the middle of a tunnel with the sounds of day funneled through. Gradually it became louder and more clear. It was the soft sound of wind rustling tree leaves, of birds chirping in the sky, the sounds of the forest. She hated it.
It was the hate she felt first. Before she even had any sense of being, there was some inexplicable hatred for what she heard around her, mixed with a profound sadness. It was startling, and she wanted to cry out, thrash out at the darkness. As she did so, her eyes flew open.
She was standing, though she did not realize it. Around her daylight flooded the forest, making the morning happy for everything else. She wanted to drift back to sleep, but did not want to close her eyes again. Above her a bluebird perched on a outcropping branch, staring down at her and chirping madly. She wanted it gone.
So she bent over to a rock, intending to throw it at the creature to make it stop. But when she tried to, nothing solid met her grasp. She turned her head to see what was the problem. The rock was still there, and yet her hand was not.
She could feel that it was extended to reach out to it, but the limb was invisible to her. Upon further inspection she realized in a panic that this extended to the rest of her body. Only then was her gaze drawn to what she stood next to.
Sophia collapsed, not disturbing a single leaf fallen upon the ground. Her sobs were noiseless. She screamed, and nothing came out. Before her, staring blankly forward, was her body. It was sunken and rigid, and already there were signs of feeding upon it, but it was unmistakably the same face that had stared back to her whenever she looked into a pond of water. She wanted to heave and be sick, but could not. She wanted to run from here, but her invisible legs would not respond. She could only stare on at her corpse and scream soundlessly.