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The story of Ella Horn came to me through a dream, or so I think. One day she just appeared. I painted her the next day. Here is her story, acrostically woven of course.

Ella Horn

The temperature had risen so suddenly that first day of summer
Heat rose like steam from every crack in the pavement
Even the coolest stone burned holes through shoes and boots

Someones fear would be imprinted in somebody else forever that day
The girl with the white strands of terror in her hair did not know this yet
Others would pass stories of this day down from generation to generation
Reflecting the wickedness of the earth as a mirror of a memory still breathing
Yearning for a final release

On this day the sky pulled back revealing a white heat
Fires ignited spontanuasly in even the darkest corners of town

The diner had let her off early due to the lack of customers
Her newly discovered secret she would soon tell him
Excited she almost ran despite of the heat making it hard to breathe

Caitlin Horn avoided treading on the asphalt on her way home
Longing for clouds and rain she crossed the field where the grass curled
On this particular day she ran across the field almost euphoric
Wearing her gray trench coat as a shield against the heat
Nobody knew but her that the coat hid more than her burning skin

Facing the ground as not to burn her face she failed to notice them
A traveling circus had settled on the field in the early hours of day
Camels and horses grassed eyes closed between the caravans
Echos of her scream when the clown appeared before her
Drowned the silence of their heat-exhausted chewing

Grains of grass burned white were said to be plucked from the newborns head
In the month of snow Caitlin gave birth to her baby girl
Red haired like her mother but with a clowns features
Lips puckered and scarlet, ball-shaped nose, eyes lined with a faint black cross

Poetry by Emelén