The moon was full and bright. The stars were out. Faint, intermittent light reached the forest floor.

Chris was strolling across the dark, damp earth. He had to be in his fairy form. The height and breadth of the thicket was colossal, the distances, daunting.

He hooked his thumbs in his miniature pockets. He looked down at his clothes. White—they always began that way. 

He swung toward the rustling fronds beside him. He caught a glimpse of more white. The leaves almost immediately snapped back into their natural positions. The pearly color dipped into the shadows.

Chris followed. "Is someone there?"

There was a giggle in response. It was followed by the patter of light, barefoot steps that abated quickly. The moonlight in the distance reflected off waves of dark hair that shimmered as she ran. The train of her feathery white dress rippled behind her too.

"Wait! Come back!"

Chris raced after her. She was evading rocks, roots, and knotted tree trunks. She'd disappear. Reappear. He was moving as fast as his clumsy feet would carry him. But her movement seemed effortless. Magical. He doubted there was any hope he'd ever get close. 

Suddenly, though, she stopped to rest in a streak of moonlight. Her back was against a wide tree trunk. She was facing his direction, her chin slightly tilted toward the starry sky.

With the advantage of darkness, Chris pursued her slowly. As he edged his way closer, he could hear the whisper of her breath. He was captivated, too, by the luster of her fair skin, bluish in the moonlight, and the tint of her hair, darker than the sky and the ground beneath his feet and yet it had a variable sheen, like starlight on nighttime water. 

Chris was close. Close enough. He reached for her face. He wanted just a touch, to feel the softness, believing it would calm him. Heal him. Ease his fears. Make her real.

When his hand pierced into the light, she gave him a flash of her beguiling eyes, befittingly dark and starry, and then she darted away.

"Please! Don't go. I need you!"

I love you. . .

He bounded toward her, grabbed for her hand. He missed. Falling to his knees, he fumbled for the dress. It was about as substantial as the cool, thin night air and it slipped right through his fingers. Once again, she danced between moonbeams, farther and farther away from him.

Her laughter grew more distant. Soon, he couldn't tell if she was giggling . . . or weeping.

Then that sound was gone, or more precisely, replaced. Drowned to nothing. A flurry of red and blue zoomed past. The shrill buzz of their wings made Chris wish he could cover his ears. But he needed his hands to do something. 

There was one, after another, after another. From all angles, they converged with their weapons and their armor. They headed right for the tiny forest nymph, so beautiful and precious to him. So defenseless.

Chris ran with all the will of his existence, but he wasn't fast enough. He couldn't catch them. Or find her. When he looked down, there was an arrow jutting out of his stomach. Blood was drenching his shirt. The purity of the white he wore was always so short-lived.

Bloodshed. He'd never escape it. 

Though he felt weak, he pushed himself forward. One shaky stride in front of another.

He heard nothing more than a muted whimper. It came from behind. He turned and retraced his steps. Then the source of the soft cries changed position. He whirled around. The noise was everywhere . . . and nowhere. 

The forest went silent except for the occasional grunt, like that of a feeding animal. For once, a sound grew louder and more constant as he stumbled onward. He was getting closer. 

When he came upon vicious movement in a tuft of grass, he swept the tall blades aside.

What he saw, he wished he hadn't. What was once so innocent and enchanting, was shredded, blood-soaked, lifeless, and obscured by a snarling, devouring hump. 

The beast's head jerked to attention at the interruption. It had the wings of a fairy and the face of a demon. Flesh hung from its fangs. Its forked tongue propelled blood into a wild circle. And then the monster launched itself into the air with its massive hind legs and one flap of its wings.

It roared. It shrieked. A sound like no other. And the beast pounced on Chris. He felt the weight, the pain, the misery, even as his eyes snapped open.

Was it all just a nightmare? But then why? Why did death have such a strong hold on him?

Seconds. Minutes later. Wasn't he awake?

His heart. His head. Both about to explode. Too much blood. He could taste it, smell it, see it! If they were tears in his eyes, why was the blur he was trying to focus through such a deep shade of crimson?

Was this the end for him?

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Amber Run. I found.

~

"I'll use you as a focal point,

So I don't lose sight of what I want

I moved farther than I thought I could

But I miss you more than I thought I would"

https://youtu.be/e9Y5z3jei_U

^^^This one is worth checking out^^^

⭐️Thank you for reading⭐️