She was super. Juxtaposed with the cold stark world, she was a constant light. She brought joy to the world, or so people said. Alone with this power, she carried the burden for many years, always bringing the sun through the clouds. But one day, the clouds did not part and the sunshine could not be seen, and on that day the clouds slithered into her and began to cover her shine. She was tainted but she pushed for more joy, occasionally feeing the shiver of the cold inside her.

For many years nothing was altered by the darkness but it grew, foul bud by bud, it grew inside her.

She strode on, finding joy, forgetting the past. Suddenly she began to slow to a saunter, then suddenly she began to trudge. The darkness slithered all over her as her stride had dilapidated into a crawl and the darkness covered her. She began to try and swim through it, being pulled under more than once. She drowned. She found a comfort in this fatal, fruitless swim, imagining freedom, feeling it and then it was gone, her surroundings pressing against her, robbing her of breath. Pushed down by the mucky darkness she crashed to the bottom of whatever hell she had found. She struggled, trying to push of from the floor but was forced down even harder.

She flounders today, choked by her surroundings. Unable to swim, or breath, or feel, she flounders.