His hair was white blonde, the colour of bleached bones. She wondered if it had always been that shade or whether the shock of the impact had forced the colour out. The sunburn on his cheeks made him look vividly alive, so long as she ignored the dark, sticky pool beneath his skull.
“What happened kiddo?”
He looked around nineteen, five years younger than she was. There was apple on his cheek and as she knelt down to remove it she half expected his eyes to flutter open, a modern day Snow White.
“Sorry Snowy. I don’t believe in fairytales.”
Leave a Reply