Her Ghost in the Fog Long ago, a small village woke to the shrill calls of the early birds. A young woman awoke with a smile. She was to renew her vows to her husband. She glanced down by the forest with a twisted smile. The snow drifted down from the skies all morning but this didn’t sour the bride’s mood. There were no one to help her dress and prepare her for her big day. None of the women in the village particularly liked this young lady. They believed her to be a witch. She seduced all their men, and she practiced dark magic down in the forest. They had seen her. The woman lived alone. She had lived alone for a year. She had no friends, she hid from the world. She’d been driven insane from the grief of a lost one. On the other side of town, an outcasted man sat on a mouldy tree log, at the entrance of the forest. He was just as unwanted as his love. They had once believed him to have dark-faithed blood running through his veins, but this was long ago. He glanced up at the sky as the snow fell. He dreamily gazed into the town, as he always did, and knew that he today, would see his bride. One year previous, a man and his love had eloped to the forest. This same forest. They promised to be together forever, and to prove their faith to one another; he would sacrifice himself to His Lord. He allowed her to cut him deep, right through the heart. She whispered to him that she would see him soon. A crack of a gun startled her, and she knew they were coming for them. She kissed the groom sadly and left him there, by the mouldy log. The groom died alone. Clarissa, the beautiful young bride left the house in the same daze she’d been in all day. The day was turning to dusk. The fog still hung over the town and all the way down to the forest. Suddenly, she snapped out of her trance and awoke to all the yelling and shouting, and then she saw the flames. The bright orange flames. She screamed for her love and she fled to the forest. The breeze stank of sunset and camphor. The church bell chimed those dreadful tones and she knew it hurt to be burnt. The see-through man, the groom with the dark-blooded veins had already seen the flames. He’d heard the shouting and yelling. But there was nothing he could do for his poor Clarissa. The death-hungry, jealous men and women were approaching the man on his log. Clarissa fled past, her white gown glowing in the moonlight. She didn’t seem to notice her love. The murderous mob chased past him, but also did not see him. A single tear fell from his eyes as he shouted to Clarissa: “Come back to me! For I were born in love with thee so why should fate stand in between?!” Hearing the painful screams of her tortured soul, the man closed his eyes, and his world began to fade. Slowly, you could begin to see the snow pass through his visage, and suddenly, he was gone. Her grave is the logs and the firewood. It’s the trees and leaves surrounding. It’s the mouldy log nearby that holds so many dark secrets. It has been too long since that fateful night. There are no remains of Clarissa anymore. A strange, ghostly man appears before her tomb. He lies in place of his earthly body, beside her. They sleep, together ever after. Love,HeavensBlonde