Regaining her balance, she grabbed the ledge and heaved herself into a kneeling position, where she lifted the books one by one off the shelves, each volume emanating the silence that guided her mind to a place so far away. Sighing to no one in particular, a light eerie wind seeped through her bones and caused an adrenaline rush as Alice spied a small collection of volumes, all intricately woven tribal patterns into the spines of the books. Immediately she grabbed the heavy stack of books, aware of the scuttling of insects and spiders in the background. Ignoring the nonsensical sound effect, she began her merciless journey down from the avalanche of disused ceramic plates and furniture.
Emerging from the shed like a fearless warrior, Alice was covered from head to toe in a layer of dust and cobwebs with her ragged shoulder length hair ruffled by the wind; she looked like she belonged in the Addams family. Clenching the books in her arms safely for protection against the rain, the sky was still weeping tears, as Alice had lost her sense of time. Her calf muscles burned as her legs nearly buckled underneath the heavy load of the hardbacks, the garden was still at its morbid nature. The reminiscence of skeletal trees and lush greenery contrasted against the miserable january weather.
"Wake me up when september ends," Alice sang cynically as she trudged up to her room.