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"queen of winter." by i tremble

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   she came from the mists and from the mists she came.

   her glacier blue eyes were glistening sapphires as they looked upon me. long eyelashes guarded her jewelled eyes like leopards once guarded the ancient palaces of queens. her mouth was a pink rose when she was silent and still, but the slightest animation would ruin the illusion and make it only a mouth once more. her skin was so fair in hue that that it resembled the land of eternal winter, the land she ruled. her white hair looked like spilled milk against her dark dress as it tumbled to her lower back. she was so beautiful in an ethereal and melancholy way.

  she walked barefoot across the snow to meet me, but the sting of the cold had no effect on her. she had finally come for me, this cold goddess. i had always dreamed of her in my sweetest slumbers. so beautiful were my dreams, that, upon waking, i often had to weep because it was despairing to know that she was not real. it is a terrible thing, indeed, to wake up alone after having a dream that you were loved. it is terrible to feel the utter despair that loneliness can cast upon you in these vulnerable moments, the moments where the line between dream and reality can be so easily blurred.

   above us, the black of the nightsky seemed to promise of eternity as she threw her arms around me and nuzzled her face against my neck. in whispered words, we spoke of our undying love for each other, each word birthing a new cloud of warm mist from our mouths. i shivered against her, wondering why she wouldn't give me what i wanted. i wanted us to be together forever. i never wanted to have to be away from her side. she pulled away from me and pierced my grey eyes with her blue ones. next, she roughly pulled me back towards her, with a strength that had never failed to surprise me.

   then her lips found my throat and she kissed my neck so tenderly that i thought i would erupt with euphoria if she didn't stop. i felt her pause, then i felt the pressure of teeth. a small cry escaped my slightly parted lips, but it sounded so odd. it sounded distant, like a seashell's melody. then the strangest, yet most erotic feeling nestled itself within me as she fed from me, taking more of my energy than my life's wine. just as i was beginning to feel as if i were about to faint she stopped. with her incisors, she tore the flesh at her wrist and rested her wrist against my mouth. unsure, i looked up at her with inquiring eyes.

   "it's the only way," she whispered, stroking my jet black hair with her long, ivory fingers.

   i nodded slightly. then taking the offered wrist, i drank, getting slightly lightheaded from the powerful liquid that trickled down my throat. she let me drink for a few minutes before she took her pale arm away. after a smile had danced across her face and gone again, she pressed her pallid lips to mine. then she took my smaller hand in hers and we ran through the snow covered forest, two lovers that would never die.

   for centuries, we lived like this. we lived in forests or ancient, abondoned ruins of great ghosts of cities. after feeding, we spent the remainder of the nights together looking at the stars or merely walking together. we didn't need words to understand each other. we knew each other well enough. but it couldn't last forever, nothing ever does. she left me one night. she sought out solitude. she needed to be alone to survive, while i, on the other hand, desperately needed companionship. and so, the queen of winter left me for the mists.

   she left through the mists and through the mists she left.




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If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others

On Saturday July 28th, 2007, stormtalk (908) writes:
sad


On Thursday April 19th, 2007, torn_beauty (103) writes:
What a story. I think that I will just have to fav you because you are such a talanted story teller be with poem or not. Fantastic.


On Sunday February 18th, 2007, An Expired Member (21) writes:
I thought that is was wonderful,and so sad(signf)


On Wednesday December 20th, 2006, Recycled (161) writes:
Each line was a lure. Most excellent.



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