“Daddy, I want to go home.” The terrified look on the young girls small and beautiful face was only amplified by the dim and pale light cast by the large, white moon above in the dark sky and reflected by the thick fog that always seemed to gather around the pond at night. “We’ll be there soon, honey. Just a few hundred meters and we’re home.” “Daddy, I’m scared!” Instead of answering he reached for her frail, shaking hand, clutching it tightly, reassuringly, as he hoped. Any comforting words he could have spoken would have only been ridiculed by his trembling voice for he too was filled with tremendous fear of the way ahead. Nobody visits the this place at night. It’s where the demons dance, legend said. He had always obeyed this rule, unspoken, yet accepted by all. But today he had been out into the city with his daughter and they had missed the train. When they finally arrived at the village closest to the little cabin that was their home, the sun had already sunken below the horizon and even the last beams of golden light were steadily fading. Avoiding the pond would have meant almost certain death since it lay directly by the only reliable path through the swampy marshland that had swallowed up so many careless hikers. One wrong step could mean an agonizing death, futilely trying to escape the forces of nature relentlessly pulling you into the morass.
Gathering his courage, he straightened his battered, brown overcoat and stepped into the thick, eerie billows of the mist, the little girl following his step closely, careful not to lose her only lifeline in the sea of fog. She stopped abruptly, startling her father who still protectively clenched the tiny hand in his own, larger one. “Daddy?” Her voice had a certain undertone which sent a sensation of deepest terror down his spine. “Yes, darling?” “The demons don’t really exist, do they?” “Of course not, dear! Such things are only real in tales and legends.”, he answered in a voice so frail and insecure that it was obvious he did not believe in his own words. The child stared into the fluctuating, bodiless mass of the mist. Just for a moment she was convinced to have made out a hideous grimace of a face in it with grey sunken cheeks and huge, eyeless sockets filled with a pitch black substance of which she could not say with certainty whether it was fluid or gaseous. Now she could only see the silhouettes of some willows which leaned over the water, swaying violently despite the near absolute absence of wind. The girl quickly turned her head away from the haunted scenery, her long, black hair following the movement like a veil of death. She staggered behind her father who was walking faster now, running almost, his large coat fluttering around his body. They must have been around the edge of the fog as she felt a creeping sensation which caused her to halt again in order to quickly glance over her shoulder. Moments later, the man also turned around, irritated by the sudden force with which his daughter clasped to his hand. Mere meters behind them, just far enough to be half concealed by the seemingly ever thicker growing billows, stood the figure of a child, staring at them out of eyeless sockets.
He did not mean to abandon his daughter, it was panic and instincts that took over his mind and forced him to let go of the tiny hand. Forced him to run, always along the thin trail leading the safety of the cabin. He did not even abandon her. After all, he could clearly hear the light, yet rapid steps of her little feet right behind him!
As she felt her hand slip out of her father’s grip, the girl flung around, darting forward in a desperate attempt to follow him. It felt like in slow-motion to her, as her left foot got caught behind a root winding onto the path from one of the willows. She staggered in a futile attempt to regain her balance but ultimately could not escape gravity dragging her down, pulling her head towards the hard ground. 428Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwH09RKv0AK
As she regained consciousness, the sun was just rising from the shallow grave of the night, it’s fiery glare tearing through the dispersing mist.428Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM4o1TD4Dty
...“Daddy?”
ns 15.158.61.8da2
