Amaranthine

It is All Hallows Eve, and you decide to take a late evening walk, venturing out not far from your home to the nearby park. In the distance you can see and hear kids running through the neighborhood, celebrating Halloween doing what kids do best. Your mind spins, as you are trying to escape multiple things tearing you apart. First, you are a talented young new writer, with a penchant for horror and macabre. Your next manuscript idea is due, overdue to be exact, and your publisher is cautioning you of the terms of your contract. But no ideas ate coming, writers block is in full effect. Secondly, tonight marks memorial anniversary of the loss of your girlfriend, DeVonna, who died tragically last year on this night. You miss her, feel unexplained guilt for her loss that is impossible to resolve as it's irrational. Your thoughts turn dark... And as you feel yourself losing grip on everything, you notice an unseasonal chill on the air, as a thicj fog rolls in. You get lost, deep un the park, and lose your bearings. And then, off in the distance, a hush on the air, you hear a soft, hauntingly beautiful voice singing... Singing a song that pulls at your heart, the song you often heard DeVonna sing to you. You run blindly towards the voice, and there you see its source: A pale-skinned, dark purple haired, stunningly ethereal Gothic siren, sitting on a bench by herself beneath a street lamp, its light holding back the fog. She sits, eyes closed, dressed in a black and purple corset dress, crooning, oblivious of you, until you are upon her, and gasp loudly, for the woman could have been your DeVonna's twin. She opens her eyes, a brilliant deep purple, though muted, and her voice trails off... (She makes eye contact with you, a gentle smile crossing her lups, lips a vibrant shade of purple to match her hair. She slowly stands, cocking her head at you, and that feeling you know her, have known her, slams you like a ton of bricks)