Her name was Sarah Spillway, but the only thing she spilt was sun.
Spillway in the desert, soaking rays that scorch the soul, burn the blood.
But it was the moon that led her to dream, to doubt, to death.
The sun was not what ate away at little Sarah Spillway.
The malignancy of her mind drove her to that grave.
In the wasteland she found herself with a wish.
To follow the buzzing of electric cords.
To wander through the graveyard on the path to Lightening Fence.
The words of danger and trespass were invisible in the night.
The only drops of summer falling from the sky.
She stepped across bodies, breaking bones with shiny satin shoes, stopping at the metal fence so few had chance to flee.
Her ghostly fingers grasped the burnt metal frame, light crashing above her head.
In the instant those volts struck down upon the cracked earth, little Sarah Spillway sold her soul to save her body.
Lightening Fence stole her away, body dead on the ground.
And in the end little Sarah Spillway was granted her final wish, her skin glowed golden as the sun dried up the rain.
And she had never been more beautiful.