The Fog

A ghostly mist rose out of the river, shrouding the campsite in a blanket of grey, and muffled the clumsy footsteps that echoed in the deathly silence. Marley was running, stumbling over loose rocks, cutting her arms and legs on the tree branches that appeared in her path, and blindly searched for her family.

The air was humid, laced with a strong earthy smell, and it weigh heavily – like an old, itchy blanket – on her skin. Her dirty clothes, a mass of tattered grey fabric, clung tightly to her body.

MarleyMarley…” a ghostly whisper drifted from the distance.

She stopped.

A sudden chill ran down her spine, erecting the hair on the back of her neck, but she mustered the courage to take a cautious step forward. She stretched out her trembling hand, sweeping her long fingers through the plume of translucent grey, and peered into the dense mist.

Her eyes widen in shock when she uncovered a body – shrouded in rags – lying on the cold, damp ground.

The face was buried in one of the ragged sleeves and hidden by a mane of frizzy, tangled knots. Marley took slow and hesitant step forward.

Suddenly, the body stirred.

Marley pierced the spooky silence with a high-pitched scream, took a terrified step back and tripped on a rock. She fell into the nearby bushes and scraped her sweaty palms against the prickly tree branches.

She quickly sprung to her feet, balled up her fists and cast a nervous glance around the deserted patch of land.

The body was gone.

MarleyMarley…” a voice, as sweet as honey, poured out from the eerie mist.

Marley broke out in cold sweat, and when a skeletal hand touched her shoulder she let out a deafening scream and leapt forward. She whirled around, her heart thrashing inside of her ribcage, and stared into a pair of wild, green eyes.

The woman was pale, her face drawn and sickly, but her eyes burned with the ferocity of a caged tiger. She twisted her bluish-purple lips into a manic grin and spat out, “Beware of the light, Marley. Beware.”

Marley swallowed a thorny lump that suddenly spawned in her dry throat.

The woman shoved her back and screeched, “BEWARE OF THE LIGHT!”

Marley scrambled to her feet and took off into the mist. Her chest burned, her sides ached and tears spilled down her cheeks, but she didn’t dare to stop. A wave of guilt washed over Marley and her insides twisted into a cherry knot as she thought about her lost family.

Suddenly, she lost her footing and tumbled into a deep, murky river. She opened her mouth to scream and invited the water into her lungs. She tried to kick with her arms and legs but they felt like noodles.

The time was running out and the last ounce of oxygen was slipping away.

Marley knew she was drowning. Her body was slowly sinking into her grave at the bottom of the river when she saw the light. It gently kissed the surface of her pale cheeks and a soft, calming voice whispered, “Be brave, Marley.”

Marley woke up with a start, the sound of her heart ringing inside of her ears. She quickly sat up in bed and glanced around the dark room.

She heaved a deep sigh of relief when she realized that it was just a bad dream.

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The Fog

The Tale of a Dubious Prince

Once upon a time, in a kingdom of darkness and pain,
Lived a dubious, little prince with a hollow heart.
He sat on a skeletal throne and butchered souls.
And his favorite pastime was to conquer and burn.

He enjoyed torture, blood and impalement most of all.
Hence why his foes called him a bloody monster, a tyrant and a wild boar.

Those who lived in the kingdom were very afraid,
For the prince was volatile and simply deranged.

He ruled his homeland with an iron fist,
Hence why the people called him a beast.
Those who opposed him were beheaded and flayed,
For the prince lacked a heart – mercy was not in his veins.

He was ugly, repulsive, scarred and insane.
And although he was small,
He was fearless and strong.

He mounted warhorses – ponies were given to slaves.
And he’d charge into battle, yell out, “Ye shall fall to your knees!”
Before slaying his prey.

After battling foes, burning temples to ash,
Disembodying the innocent, ripping hearts from their chests,
The dubious prince dove into raping his conquest.

Virginal maidens only lasted a night,
Early next morning, their bodies were trashed,
Into the gutter, with the rest of the quarry;
Damaged, deflowered and ready to bury.

The tale is woeful, morose and dreadful,
But the reign of the prince did not last forever.
He was finally slain by a raven-haired maiden.

She beheaded the tyrant, placed the crown on her head,
Settled into the skeletal throne and assumed his place.

The tale of the raven-haired princess has yet to be told,
No one knows if her kingdom will flourish or fall.
But beware she will not be a puppet, a fool or a dolt.

She will rule as she pleases,
And if protests arise, then the sword that she used to butcher the tyrant
Will once again be ready to strike.

The Tale of a Dubious Prince

The Beginning of a Sinister Love Affair


You are not Prince Charming.

Your heart is the shade of charcoal, and it is filled with hatred against the world that has never taken the time to recognize the ingenious thoughts inside of your sinister mind.

No, not sinister – your brilliant mind.

Once upon a time, under a starry night, our lips touched for the first time and the poison you harbored in your black, little heart infested mine.

Slowly and quietly, I have fallen in love with the Dark Knight.

He has good intentions, even though he is riddled with insecurities, pain and sorrow. He is not perfect – in fact, he is ugly and far from the picture perfect guys that the modern society fantasizes about.

He fears intimacy.

Past love affairs have left him vulnerable, cold and guarded. He fears unknown – especially if it’s in a form of a fiercely independent woman.

But, whenever our gazes align, I can smell the lustful thoughts that brew in his head.

He is intrigued by the cloak of mystery I wear and although he cannot decipher the nonchalance in the tone of my voice, he tries. To him, a puzzle needs to be solved and a riddle needs be answered; uncertainty is not an option.

And, although he fears love, he will have to learn to accept it.

For the Dark Knight needs the Queen of Hearts.

It is simply inevitable.

The Beginning of a Sinister Love Affair