you spend so many nights dreaming of spilling your blood to the moonlight. slipping out of your bones, and slithering into the soul of someone else
I am lost in a hallway of mirrors. This place feels like a dream, where the line between reality and fantasy is thinning, like songs, like whispers. Night falls like a seedy whisper over the greying horizons – the cresent moon, a porcelain grin, flows down in streams of haunting light, that has forgotten how to love flesh and skin and lives only in the deadness of a dream world. Their moonlight follows me from high up above, as I walk through these desolate hallways with a sigh of awe and endless wonder upon my lips. Reflections stir before me. Reflections gleam and ripple like autumnal witchcraft. Light cracks like iron against marble, and something unholy snarls through the darkness and inbetween the false-trees made of silver illumination and haunting poetry.
Sharp moonbeams suddenly twist between dark mirror-trees – wolves run alongside me, and I can hear their feral melody echo with the shrills of their frightening hunger. I watch the wolves run past me like starved shadows and a chill runs up my spine by the billowing memory of their winter call. Their beauty runs past me in a wicked blur of divine terror; their mirror-fangs like snarling embers in a darkness made more of fire and smoke, than starlight and nightsky. I watch them run, baying wildly as their forms disappear through nightsmoke, dancing in a wave of ash – grey, and fading. Their cries were drowned out before a full moon made of silver desire. I am walking through a black forest made of starlight and quicksilver wishes, now. Everywhere I look, I see a midnight dream staring back me. It is haunting, ephemeral.
In the mirror, I am nothing more than a ghost, a fragmenting mist of holy, burning light. I see that I am walking on water. I see that I am floating upon the clouds that linger above the sea – clouds that bank low the restless tide and kiss the surface of the ocean with every breath I take. Each step I make echoes back with siren clarity, as the water laps my feet and beg me to drown. Suddenly, I fall – I fall. The clouds part at my feet and I fall into the darkness of the ocean beneath me. I sink to the ocean-floor and my world, my reflection, my mirror-self explodes into a burning inferno of pale, drowning moonlight. As I turn away from the violent image, a tear threatens to spill from my cheek, yet even I have forgotten how to cry. I cannot bear to look at my mirror-self, to see how I lay like a broken swan upon the ocean-floor – a frail ghost, trapped beneath the seas' wreckage, whose voice comes out not in a plea – but a shrill scream.
The echo of that silent scream, dances like firelight against shattered window. She stands before the nightmarish vision, startled. Andromeda shivers before the disappearing image of her lifeless reflection – an angel wounded by her sins. Starlight washes over her lithe physique, her fiery curves touched by a sceptre-glow made soft and silver – radiant and illuminating as the December moon. Moonlight cracks over the mirrors' lightening surfaces, and bounces back like halos strewn from the brows of archangels. Darkness now settles in the island-forest made of bones and blood and mirrors. Andromeda stumbles backward as her heart begins to stir with restlessness, and unease. She leaves it all behind her, and along another moonlit path – with the breeze descending her curves and the night braiding her hair – Andromeda gasps softly, as she spies a winged girl captivated by the same labyrinthine reflections.
She is tall, elegantly sculpted, with dark, beautiful skin the shade of autumnal fire and burning embers – her eyes were dual-hued, mysterious, whilst an oak-shaped leaf adorned her swarthy brow. Andromeda's voice falls in a soft cadence, a hushed song of gentle words, as she intends to catch the fae's attention with a whisper of relief (relief, that she is not alone in this darkness); "Are you lost, too?"
@
