There perched atop a flocculent clound was a homely little angel robed in the plainest of whites. She looked quite downtrodden. All about her, the sky was lit with beautiful shades of crimson, orange, yellow, pink, orange, and purple. As this beautiful landscape of the setting sun slowly turned to a twilight filled night, a solitairy tear rolled down the angel's cheek. The sound of joyous laughter echoed in her ears. Glancing over her shoulders at the other angels behind her who were vigorously engaged an invigorating game of tag, she felt a pang of envy towards each of them.

Hope. The fallen angel stood alone in this passage among the large timbers of the dark forest. Her hair silky, shining, reflecting the little moonlight that has managed to peer through the thick canopy of foliage overhead. Her wings, no longer the pearly whites it had once been, now they are stained, from her pulsating heart that no longer adhering the pellucid and loving feelings it formerly had. Her gown was achromatic, the white folds drifting with the cold unatural breeze that swept the undergrowth. Melodramatically, a large leaf above her fell, immersing her in a spotlight from the moon's eerie glow. She absent-mindedly fingered the silver necklace that hung around her neck. Her past was clouded, her mind was unset. Once driven by hatred, it now consumed her. Undauntingly, she was calm. Temporarily at peace, her anger subsided. It hurts, burns her heart to think of the past. Naught mention it, her fury will not be released upon the innocent traveller ((THat.. may some day be you. Yeh be warned)).