Sunday Scribblings; Ghosts

I am participating in Sunday Scibblings this week.
Below is my first contribution to this weekly challenge.

She runs through the wooded lot like a horse in the wind. Her pale skin reflects the moonlight with a glow of blond hair flowing freely behind. All is quiet; no snap of sticks, no rustle of leaves. She never makes a sound. Little Elisabeth moves through the night air until she reaches her resting place. So soft is her touch to the cold stone. Her image thins and the air thickens as her misty molecules transcend into the ground. All that is left is the cold worn out stone that reads;

Elisabeth Grant
1923-1926
Our little lamb

I have joined Sunday Scribblings this week. Our assignment;ghosts. The above essay is a piece of a fictional story that I am writing. Visit Sunday Scribblings and take the links to read some very inspiring essays. Enjoy!

XO-Mya