falling... falling... anticipating the the moment where she will hit the concrete floor in which gravity has been pulling her to, she shuts her eyes close, wanting to slip away before she feels the pain. any pain.

blinking more than twice, not a scratch and in the middle of a meadow she stood, a jungle on her left with a creek on the side. not too distant a faint but distinct laughter she hears, children laughter mingled with shrieks of excitement. she follows, caution with every step treading on soft decayed leafs that form the ground, a blanket that covers her footsteps. as she approaches, she could see a bird mimicking the the exact same sound of laughter that she heard. she knew that she was alone, that there would be no children laughter or songs because around her stood the remains of her village once her home filled with joy and warmth. Now nothing stands but debris of her village, with no one to haunt her but only her memory...