Phoebe

It was a perfect windy evening.

The perfect day for Esmeralda to die.

The sun was slowly retreating, giving room for the presence of the moon that caused a glow in the sky, leaving the sky in shades of pink, white, blue and orange.

The wind moved in rhythms, filling out ears with beautiful serenades as it ruffled dried leaves on the floor.

The birds weren't left out too as they filled the air with their melodious songs, entertaining us with their pleasant rhymes.

I turned my gaze to meet Esmeralda who was watching the moon keenly, admiring the beauty of the evening as the gentle wind ruffled her...