The lady in white

I have always maintained that there is something particularly alluring about a cold winter night.

Perhaps it’s the silence, the dead calm that lingers in the air or the absence of the living save for a few miserable wanderers cursing the sharp biting air that burned their exposed skin; a price I gladly paid to get away from the madding world.

Oh how I love the cold!

In front of me, the road stretched like a thin strip of grey beneath a murky sea of winter fog. The houses on either side were vague silhouettes; their lights glowing like spectral eyes that watched me fumble and fall in the darkness.

Winter showed no mercy to her admirers, I thought.

As my thoughts drifted to more pleasant times, I was startled by a presence not far from me. A tall, slender woman dressed in a royal white gown, moved steadily ahead. The long tail of her gown fluttered and danced in the wind, mocking its futile attempts as it crashed and died on her body. In fear, the fog parted.

I followed this lady of the night, the white of her dress glowing like a beacon that guided my way. In this world of dying light, she burned with an audacious brightness.

I wasn't fumbling and falling anymore.

I hastened my steps; I wanted to meet my fellow traveller. The night was dark and her presence instilled in me a sense of safety and comfort; like a moth lured by a flame, I was attracted to her strange glowing aura.

But I could never reach her. She was always so close, yet so far away.

I paused at the fork in the road. Towards my right, I could see my home, street lights lighting my way.

In a few minutes, I’d be with my family.

Towards my left, swallowed by the darkness, an empty road stretched as far as I could see.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, I let the darkness consume me.

A faint light flickered in the distance.


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