Beautiful glass windows. Beautiful mosaic glass for the windows.
Sunlight filtering itself in the colours of the patchwork pane.
But so different.
Every colour that spilled on the floor was a design, carefully made, carefully planned.
Careful, careful. Encouraging.
A gorgeous sight to see the hues meld into each other to create such delicate art.
And she stood at the door, her eyes fixed on the corridor of coloured glass. At the end was a door, higher on a pedestal. Much more promising beauties in store.
Tip-toeing, careful to not smudge the colours. Her skin brushed on a little red, and the entire formation altered.
Careful, careful. Warning.
Scared, she slowed down even more. Her dress whispered against the floor.
Her fingers searched for walls, for support. She stumbled.
Careful, careful. Reprimanding.
The colours swam, speedily running on the ground, changing their position chaotically.
The myriad action blinded her, nauseating her.
Her toes, smeared in the blood of the patterns.
The doors had disappeared.
The stained glass now broken.
Careful, careful. Mocking.