Mist hangs heavy

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She steps out into the eerie moonlight, it flickers, broken like a broken torch. It fills her mind with taboos and unsaid possibilities but, she needs to be here. If she's not here, who will be here? This place needs someone here.

 

Moss clings desperately from a wall, as if with the slightest touch from the weakest individual it would fall and crumple on the ground below. Mist hangs heavy, its the type of mist that catches in your throat like an unsaid word. Its flooded around her like water, and, to make sure it is infact mist she swipes her hand through it. It is almost entirely luminescent in the moonlight.

 

Behind her, a grey tinted cathedral seems like the type of place from a film, it is surreal. This whole place is seems surreal. It always does. The air around her is stiff and unforgiving and its so thick that it seems to her as if it is warning her not to continue. But, she does, like always, like she always will. She feels the grass start to cling to her.

 

It glues her to the spot and she tastes the cold, familiar, metallic taste of unclean metal. She does not flinch at this escalation of events for she already knew this would happen. Then it happens. An unseen force pulls her to her knees and out of the darkness steps a lone figure. 

 

It stands above her, hands twisted, broken and bloody, cloak thick and dark, but, a figure none-the-less. It places one of its contorted hands upon her temple and pushes into her mind. It plays within her and laughs at her deepest fears, it being one of them. Then, it simply steps away and back into the darkness. 

 

She stands, knees uneven, mind as twisted and broken as the hands of the creature who just ruined her. She limps past the gate she has passed so many times and says,

 

"Next time I will not go back." Even she now knows that this is a lie.






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