<center>https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://i.imgur.com/xbWE6TD.jpg</center>

<h3><center>The Shadow</center></h3>
It has taken all of her, she was a husk of the woman she once was. The days of silk and splendor were long behind her now. The soft cherry blossom that fell on her cream skin, the warm laughter of those she loved, the gentle touch of embrace. Gone. They had taken everything from her the day the capital fell. They had taken her friends, her neighbours, her family. Then finally, her life. She had died on that day, but still she had pulled herself up, dragged her broken body over parts, forcing herself not to recognise, that ring… that golden hair… that pair of boots. She had walked out of that city of blood and conquest, a dead woman with sightless eyes. She had nothing left to live for, yet still she kept going, a wandering echo of the depth of her grief and loss. The city fell to ruins, the men who had taken all she had turned to bones, and their bones turned to dust. Yet still she remained. The forest reclaimed what man had once taken from it, but she, she could not, so she wanders the woods still. The shadow of bloodshed, a haunting reminder of the price of conquest, a single soul, who won’t ever let go.

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<i>The next story is unrelated to the first, yet equally, as they are different, they are the same, inspired by the same image.</i>

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<center>https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://i.imgur.com/xbWE6TD.jpg</center>

<h3><center>The Flesh</center></h3>

Death did not suit her. The blood of another would be her saving grace. It did not take long, hunched over in the forest, her red cape flicking around her, for someone to stop. She never walked on the path, always slightly off to the side, between the trees. When she heard a carriage rushing along the road, she would begin to stagger and sway, falling just before the it went past her. They always stopped. Even in her malnourished state, she exuded femininity. Death lurked on her shoulder, it always had, a cursed that killed all she touched. Yet as much as it was a curse, it was a gift, what it took from them, it returned to her. As the concerned stranger stooped over her splayed form, their life would begin to seep out of them. They would become drawn and haggard, their eyes sinking in black rings, lines forming like ripples from their aghast mouth. Their skin would thin and crinkle, their hands become gaunt and spotted with age they had never known. The last thing their failing eyes would see, would be her beautiful face. Her cream skin aglow the gentle blush of life, her soft mouth curving into a delighted smile, her thick hair tumbling loose from her hood. They would fade away, like crumbling rock in the wind before her, and she would be restored. It was only a matter of time, someone would pass by soon enough.

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<i>The final story is more poetic prose, and an expression of the story I feel looking at this image.</i>

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<center>https://steemitimages.com/0x0/https://i.imgur.com/xbWE6TD.jpg</center>

<h3><center>The Whispering In The Wind</center></h3>

Echoes through the ether, of the woman she had once been. Lost and forgotten in the shedding of her skin. Twisting bare tree branches, flowers pink on vines, ever fading memories of her long lost designs. Drifting through the forest catching form in mist and smoke, she rises and slips away the outline of a ghost. She wanders for no man, no moral gleans her form, she appears to the twilight, the moons own dusk and dawn. This world holds no sway for her, she is one with the breeze, she lifts the falling petals, dancing through the trees. No name can contain her, she is not of the world of men. There are no limits she abides to, no beginning and no end. Death cannot touch her, nor life take her in its embrace, she lingers beyond reach, forever out of place. She cannot make her home here, she will never belong, alas so she wanders, wailing her mournful howling song.

<center>![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmTKwfDWBRtv8NwhGrjuMmvFwyhLHdP8Ub9jYgMjDz9guC/image.png)</center>

<b>These stories are all entries to @vermillionfox 's [one paragraph story](https://steemit.com/art/@vermillionfox/week-22-fox-tales-announcing-last-week-s-winners-and-a-new-story-image) where the challenge is to write up to three one paragraph stories inspired by her fantastic artwork.</b>

You can post your entries as separate posts, but I was rereading the rules today, and realised I can put them all on one. The deadline is fast approaching and I didn't want to flood people with three posts on the same thing. There isn't long left for this round, but make sure to give @vermillionfox a follow as she holds these most weeks.

<b>You can check out all the entries under the tag #foxtales</b>

<i>It is very interesting to take a image and write stories going in three different direction, although I haven't managed so much variation here myself, it is good practise for getting the mind whirring. As the stories as so short, you don't need a lot of time to enter, I would highly recommend this contest to anyone who hasn't seen it before. The artwork is always so fantastic and inspiring</i>

Hope you enjoyed, and feel free to let me know which one you liked best

Love and Sparkle - Calluna


[Photo Credit](https://steemit.com/art/@vermillionfox/week-22-fox-tales-announcing-last-week-s-winners-and-a-new-story-image) by @vermillionfox