Clouds bursted like rippened pomegranates.

Dana thought it should have been her

Bursting.

So that all of her pain and darkness would get out

Of her.

In olden times, she could remember laughing,

Watching as the blood-red juice dripped

All along her white hands.

Like purple

And sticky gloves.

Her hands were now hidden in shadows.

Shadows were everywhere.

Dana howled in dread.

Light was gone.

Then, a maiden came,

Telling her that the young lord she had received during the afternoon wanted to talk to her.

She remembered him, with short ebony hair,

And penetrating eyes.

Most of the men wanted to talk to her.

She always refused,

Even more since the Ghost had come.

But the Ghost had left,

And Dana desperately wanted to forget this.

"Let him in, she said to the maiden."

Rain was dopping furiously,

Crashing and bursting on the immaculate terrace.

Dana was sure that,

If she had extended her hand outside,

This rain would have hurt her.

Everything was hurting her,

Deeply.

"Let him in", she whispered again,

Knowing this time

That there would be no turning back