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Ripped, onyx silk rippled in the swirling, icy winds. Cascading raven black hair whipped around delicate, porcelain flesh. A faintly shimmering silver crown danced in the eerie half light.
A mystery, forever untold Is about to gradually unfold The story of Ophelia 'To cry me a river' The girl who died in the water.
Rose was a beautiful and intelligent young girl. She had a warm, silky voice as soft as a summers breeze yet as fragile as glass. Nobody liked Rose.
Heard a carol, Mournful, holy. Chanted loudly, Chanted lowly. Till her blood was frozen slowly. And her eyes were darkened wholly. Turned to towered Camelot.