A piece of a fairy tale II.

”Hyraeth has gone away for a while.”


Arms are shaking. It is impossible to breath. The face is covered by lachryma. The whole soul is aching. Rêverie. The Evil Himself is Rêverie. The fairy knows it. And now she is lying on her bed, screaming. Nothing can happen. Nothing in this world.

Now is good. In the mountains, far away. There’s a lake that reflects the amazing cold colors of the sight. It’s very freezy, but don’t mind. A cabin is over there offering the warmth of welcome. The Welcome Home.

He has a blond hair, it’s almost white. He is standing near the lake and gazing at the fairy. Now he is smiling.

Opened eyes, staring at the brick wall of the cold castle, or maybe, and that’s more likely, looking right into the nothing. The fairy is smiling.

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