Tallulah had dark hair, sometimes chestnut, sometimes mousy; all depending on her mood. Sometimes Tallulah was stunning. Other times, shhe was chubby and smooshy. She was usually always a creature that looked like she tasted like apple butter and roses. She wore clothes that blew in the breeze. She walked like a birch tree, arms swaying, hair full of birds' nests. She smiled at strangers making them believe that butterflies and puddles deserved the same reverence.
She lived between worlds of great love and great loss. There was never just a day that flatlined. Her joy on good days spilled over filling fountains and watering the flowers. Her bad days brought the darkest clouds and most heart breaking sobs. She was blessed with feelings. She was cursed. When she wasn't loved, she was broken pieces of concrete. When she was loved, she was a ferris wheel.
Tallulah was born curious about the world. She wanted to name each bug, follow every ant, and poke every bear. Nothing in the natural world intimidated her. She was the youngest of the three sisters and the most feral. She was concoction of silky innocence and wild rage.
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