In the mist she was standing...

In The Mist She Was Standing

It all began one misty morrow when a young man, after wandering for days through mist, finally found a nice spot to rest. It was under a magnificent tree. There was a beautiful spring not far from this tree and the young man freshen with the water from it, the mist was getting even worse and he felt like it made walls that were closing up, trying to devour him. The air was heavy of moisture and it was not easy to breathe. He returned to that tree and sat to rest, soon he fell asleep. A few hours later he woke up and saw that a mist was clearing up so he decided to continue. He then packed up and started walking down the trail that brought him to that tree. suddenly he heard a voice so beautiful yet so sad, like the never ending elven songs of sorrow. He was fascinated by it and as though he were charmed, started walking in the way he thought it had come from. He left the trail but he didn't care for he was now obsessed with the voice of the one that sang this and his toughts were all focused on the song, so beautiful yet so sad. The mist began to gather up around him but he was too charmed to notice anything, he kept going and going and falling just to rise again just to get few more steps closer. Now he didn't feel desire to hear the song any more he felt urged to see the creature that sang it, to touch the very skin of the one that sang that angelic song of sadness. Slowly even without spending a single moment with the one that sang he was falling in love with her.

After a few hours of wandering in the mist,he came to a place where the song was coming from, the mist suddenly cleared and he saw in the middle of abandoned cemetery's ruined tombs and crypts a woman's figure in gray armor-like dress with jet black hair leaning on a gleaming sword. He approached fascinated and started hugging and kissing a figure but then he noticed that he kissed not a woman but a stone. The figure was carved magnificently, body made of stone, hair made of obsidian, and eyes made of pearls. Only the sword was real and to his rather large surprise the song, so beautiful yet so sad, wasn't coming from her mouth on her pain-twisted face but from the sword that lay in her hands. He was so obsessed with the song that he tried to keep it forever, by trying to pry the sword from it's resting place, forgetting the statue and not asking for a reason to her face twisted and deformed in pain and sadness. When he finally took the sword a howling replaced the song the howling of a 1000 vengeful spirits all around him, a howling so terrible that in an instant he only managed to notice several more statues twisted in pain and agony before he himself became one of the tormented, a statue punished by the curse of the immortality and insanity. Then he saw a ghost taking the sword back to it's resting place and vanishing. The song returned on the moonlit tombs and statues who remained here, their spirits trapped in stone driven insane by the song, so beautiful yet so sad, the song of angelic sorrow, the never ending elven song of sadness.