Chasing After Deception

You can’t fool me!

     Curiosity grabs you and talks you into following the Lady in the blue dress and her biker, who by now is like a lamb to the slaughter.

You decide to go not to rescue the biker but to investigate this bad feeling you have: that if you ignore this something bad will happen. 

       As the couple cross the bridge you follow after them. Halfway across the bridge the slimy hand of the other biker grabs your foot. Yet rather than pull you down, he lays something at your feet and whispers hoarsely, “The Marb has his sights on you this night. If you have any trouble, as you most likely will, be not afraid to call.”

    At your feet is a tiny whistle made of rotting wood. The Marb’s Biker returns to under the bridge.

     You continue to follow the Lady and her biker until they come to a field a few meters outside the Labyrinthine Forest. There you see the Lady stride boldly forth into the field of tall grass. The biker follows after but has a confused look on his face. By now the moon has appeared and the sun is setting: the Lady walks with purpose toward a monument of a lone woman in a dress with hands outstretched a few meters away amid a sea of tall grass. The Lady removes something from her dress and places it in the left eye of the statue. A mist rises from the statue and washes forth away from it. Night, complete with a full moon, comes immediately after it. The fog thickens.

          You are currently crouched in the tall grass. From here you can hear the Woman laughing. The biker cringes: it is a laughter infested with icy cruelty.

       “Now, my darling,” she says to the biker, “It is time for the  Tallgrass fields to become the Moonlit Field; my old home has returned once again!”

     In the mist the form of an ancient fortress begins to appear. As it forms the Lady changes her appearance. Her skin turns deathly white and shiny, reflecting the moonlight. Her hair grows down to her legs. A circlet of ice adorns her hair. Despite the small changes in her appearance, which seemingly enhance her beauty, there is an ugliness which has enhanced as well; it is something one can only sense but not see.

              You recall hearing legends of the Saphire Ghost of Moonlit Field, of some poor soul who was a civilian casualty who came back to avenge her death. Some say she was a spy who suffered a botched execution. Yet something tells you there is more to her than a mere State Park ghost.

        Indeed you are correct: she is not a mere legend. You have encountered the Moonlight Fettre. It is uncertain when she first appeared on the scene. Many men have fallen to her charming beauty and the few who resisted did not live to tell about it. At one time she had a castle of crystalized mist which would shine in the moonlight and attract unwary prey. Many had tried to vanquish her and failed. In the end curiosity got the best of her when she opened Do Not Open: it is a book not to be messed with; yet not even the most evil can resist it.

     Now that she is released from the Book, the Moonlight Fettre will rebuild her castle in the mist even greater than before. It will be a mighty fortress, a puzzling civilization of doors, rooms, and hallways that will rival even the old Labyrinthine Forest. When she is finished, no Park Ranger will be able to stop her from getting what she wants.

        The biker next to her has a look of fear on his face: what monster have I released? he thinks. Perhaps there is something he can do to amend for his actions but it is too late. Before the biker can protest, the Moonlight Fettre embraces, almost snatches, the biker in her arms and gives him a long kiss. Her hair falls over her face.  A faint scent of rain blows in the wind as it carries the mist toward you. When the kiss is over she throws back her hair and licks her scarlet red lips. The biker’s body falls to the ground.  

 Cruel feminine laughter is heard.

    Fear grips you: you are now really all alone, at night, in the mist with a sub-undead-vampirish- she- fiend attempting to reclaim her territory.

**This is where trails are mixed and paths are weaved, Now is the place where a Choice is conceived. **

*Run

*Blow the Whistle of the Marb

*Challenge Her Yourself

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Author: pathweaver34

My name is Isaac Craft. I've got a bachelors in Mass Communications, an Associates in Graphic Design, and I'm an aspiring novelist.

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