Out of the Mist I descend...like the changing of the seasons. Like the cold winds blowing in Mabon...you'd thought me gone When the Moon rises and you feel the warmth of my breath. A shiver to run down your spine...a curse across your lips... Blink once, blink twice...and just when you start to grow anxious for the Dawn, I'm gone again...like a figment of your imagination. Darkest Blessings all.
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