I watched from my usual spot on the hill. The lavender fields were slowly dying. Even now I couldn’t help but notice the gray starting to permeate their petals. To my disdain, it wasn’t the most lovely day, for the sky was still clouded over from the nighttime showers of delicate rain. That odd, natural fog flowed from the distant forest.

Then she came down the path.

She, per usual, ignored my presence. The maroon umbrella she carried was the only interruption in her monochromatic ensemble.

Then she stopped.

It was not raining.

“Hello!” I called out. She did not respond. Her back was turned to me, and that umbrella hid her actions.

Then the lavender began to sway. Gently, as if some unseen figure brushed past.

There was no wind.

An odd purple cloud floated out from behind that maroon umbrella. The lavender fields shook with a sense of desperation. The unnatural purple cloud glittered and sparked. Something about it made me feel a little too uneasy.

Finally the cloud stopped and slowly faded. She walked away.

The lavender fields were slowly dying.