All that glitters.

All that glitters.

All that glitters is golden, well that's what they say. But how can that be true, when the sun shines everything glitters. Today was different though, she awoke shaking on the floor, the space above her span and swirled. This wasn't the way she imagined it to end. Fragments of the last mornings events were but wisps of smoke compared to the throbbing in her side.
I feel I ought to explain, although it is somewhat difficult. You see it all began as a game, like many tales do, except that the game was her own. A game in which she made and broke the rules.

(I am trying a new technique of writing. The idea is to write a short beginning of a story based on a key word from my Outfit Of The Day picture.)

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