The rain of crimson sparkled slightly in the sunset light, glinting a bright ruby as it fell to the ground. Far below, a young girl and her grandfather stand, watching the bloody rain from beneath a metal roof, above a busstop. The child smile, watching it, her eyes sparkling along with the droplets, 'It's beautiful..."
The grandfather, knowing what is was, nodded slowly, "Often, the saddest things are." He stood, and pulled an unbrella from under the bench, and opened it, motioning to the girl, as they began to walk home in the summer's shower of angel's blood. "Beauty is always a sad thing."
~For those people who know the truth about beauty, and what it can do to the human soul.
Faded Wings Community Member 
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