Pale faced, but with rosy cheeks and slight dimples when she smiled. Long, curly auburn hair, tumbling past her waist like a cloud of wispy red smoke. But it was her eyes. Sharp, a deep forest green, they were windows to her soul. She was like a porcelain doll, her delicate body too perfect to touch. A smile was painted delicatley on her face, either out of politeness or she was just a jolly person. It was most likely the latter. She was a friendly girl, doing good deeds, brightening up your rainy day, and being the angel in your nightmare. She was an image of perfection, the friend you dreamed of, the lover you craved, and the relative who wasn't fake. No-one was better; no-one could compare. Maybe it was fate, or maybe God was blinded by this angel on earth. She was misplaced. She was too perfect to be human. The only emotion she showed was happiness, complete and utter joy towards every aspect in life. Which is why, it pains me to say, we are gathered here today, to remember the late Eliza Stone...
Boredom made me write this XD Logans POV: It was a short service. The low drone of the vicars voice hummed gently in my ear, but I was really focusing on Eliza. Her coffin was a shiny black wood, glinting faintly in the dim candle-lit church. One lily lay across the box which held my girl. One, white lily, its sharp colour contrasting against the darkness of the wood. I muttered a response, my eyes glued to the area she lay. Before I knew it, we were in the cold chill of the autumn, watching her lower into the cold ground. A single golden leaf flew along the quiet whisper of the wind, settling gently against the lily. Inside I smiled. Outside I cried. Her gravestone was simple; a black marble with gold writing, which read: ELIZA STONE. Lived to love. I stood after everyone left. I stood for hours, my legs shaking from my weight. My eyes stayed fixed on the mound of dirt that sheltered my girl, my girl, whom I loved with all of my being. Then, I collapsed. A wave of emotion took me by surprise, and I sobbed, my tears hot with anger. I wanted to stomp my feet like a child until I got what I wanted, but it wouldn't work. She was gone.