The Lady of the Mist

[ayoub]

It was a misty winter's morning, the kind where it is hard to tell whether the glow in the woods is borne of the sunlight as it filters its way to the earth through clouds not as solid as they seem, or if the mist itself is alive.

A child's laughter sang sweeter than the birds in spring, or a summer's breeze as it rustled through the leaves. Eyes watched the girl with midnight hair, not herself knowing of the trespass, or the broken treaty.

"Celice!" The call distracted the eyes from the child, as her father came running into the woods. "You should not be here," he said to her urgently, hoping against hope that the being who lived in the woods would not notice his daughter's play.

"I was just running, Papa," Celice said, seeing a new expression on her father's face, one she had never seen before; the wide eyed look of fear.

Eyes watched as the man lifted the girl into his arms, and decided that this child's song was too beautiful, and should not be shared.

Walls of white mist surrounded father and daughter. "No... No..." Papa shook his head, panicking, as he found he could not see through the mist.
"Worry not," a soft voice spoke at his shoulder, and he spun around, to see the Lady of the Mist.
She stood, clad in swirling wisps of her namesake, which obscured more than covered skin so white, so lifeless, that it seemed no more than the lightest shade of grey, yet, despite everything else of her looking as if made of mist, her hard, glittering eyes were as dark as the grave.
"What do you wish of us, Lady?" the man fell to his knees, still holding on to the child, who's grey eyes finally focused on their captor.
"Your child disturbed my peace, and broke the treaty," she said, a smile playing on colourless, bloodless lips.

Father and daughter returned to the cottage at the edge of the woods, and for the first time since he had inherited it from his father, he cursed it. His wife had died here, his parents too, and even his brother, as a child, but he had never felt this as anything other than a home, yet now, it looked more a prison. Celice was crying, silently in his arms.

She grew up, mute to the world, unable to speak unless in the woods, and only allowed to visit for one day in a year. The only time she could use her voice, was also the only time she was truly aware that nobody she loved could hear.

~

Today, she turns back before resuming her sad walk, wanting to see her home, yet unable to raise her eyes, not knowing whether this will be the last time. This year, even her father was no longer there to wave her goodbye.

This is her penance. The woods call, and she must go to them, once a year, even though she dies a little every time.

It hurts more, than her father ever knew, for one part of the penance was not told to her by the Lady of the Mist until the first visit; that the more she talks on these days, the quicker she would die, and silence on these days is forbidden.

She awaits some sign, to tell her that her debt is paid, even though, after so many years, she still knows not why she has to pay it. She knows not why her voice, once celebrated by her father, her family, and her friends, became her curse.

Victimised only because of the jealousy of the mist in the morning.

She began to scream as she entered the woods, finally lamenting her father, finally adding voice to her tears, and finally not caring whether these were to be the last sounds she makes.

On this night, she will not return.

Comments

[ayoub.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Jen :)