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I dream of her again. Her legs are too long.

She does not face me. Filthy water runs from her mane and tail into nothingness. Her back faces me and she stands far away but not far enough to hide the choking stench of rot. Then she speaks to me.

“My time approaches, little one,” she says in inharmonic voices empty of life or love. “I've long awaited this moment.”

I do not understand her but I still don’t speak. I feel her breath on the back of my neck. I am filled with dread. She still doesn’t face me. Why doesn’t she face me?

When I wake, my bones ache and the smell of her salty decay is stagnant in the cold night air.

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Posting begins tomorrow.

Comments

[Cold Spike]

[Witchery]

[JCatt]

[Dreams Echo The 1st]

Damn, that drawing just gave me the goosebumps.
I could only imagine what would happen if... no, when she faces you.

Can't wait to read it.

[Lord BLACKHUNTER]

O_O.... "grabs shotgun and warbane(type of sword)" Ok I'm ready now.