By Melanie Miller
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Her golden braids, in the springs wind...
wearing a bourbon colored dress
whilst holding a puppet on a string.
She watches it dance for her amusement.
Then along comes a bee and stings her alabaster skin, on the shin.

She takes out her kit from her crushed velvet purse and notices how...the color matches her blood.

To her disbelief she can not comprehend why the bug attacked her...

But then it succumbs to her mind, it was the French perfume she wore.

She walks away leaving this place for a while...only to return when she is bathed in rose water.