She sat perched on a grey rock, watching me with her cold silvery eyes, hair falling all around her body. Or was it even hair? It was as though the forest itself lived within and I couldn’t even tell where the hair ended and the shapes and shades of the forest began. I found myself gazing at her, mesmerized, spellbound. She gazed back, queenlike from her throne of stone and moss. Something deep within my soul made me want to kneel before her and without a moment of hesitation I did. She smiled sweetly and unfolded her almost unnaturally long limbs to descend from her seat. The hair caught on the branches and rocks as she moved, as if nature itself was hesitant to let her leave. As she stepped down, her feet sinking ever so slightly into the dark mossy ground, the hair brushed to the side and I caught a brief glimpse of her back. It was hollow like the rotting trunk of a dead tree, dark and dank, a place where insects made their home as the wood crumbled and rotted around them. I should have been horrified and disgusted, but even her hollowed out back seemed beautiful as she put her cool arms around my neck and kissed me, both hungrily and triumphantly. I lost myself in her pale silver eyes and, in a moment of dreadful clarity, I knew that she had won me. She was not just the queen of this forest, she was my queen and I would willingly follow her until I fell dead to the ground, like a dried leaf in autumn.


This picture is one I’ve got mixed feelings about, but I still sat down tonight and wrote this little… thing to go with it. Ah, well. There we go. (I’ll put it under short-stories… I think.)



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