Faeries

Like an old image in black and White of a man drowning , screaming in angst, we never helped him but stood and watched, while we fought to survive, then we walked up to our mansion where we were, in our White gowns, our hair in knots. Dressed as the fashion of Abraham Lincolns time. And the Clock struck and somebody died. And we were saying our goodnight prayers while the dark wind blew outside and the trees branches danced against the window and we lay there looking at eachother and we lay there, looking at eachother, telling ghoststories, thinking about the drowned man who was now dead, floating into the river, shirt drifting, hair flowing, Eyes opened and terrified, mouth open, swallowing water, sinking more and more into the depth of the river like he was sinking into his dark subconscious , where his inner demons lay waiting and Death took him like in "Hamlet", very Ophelia aye, very Ophelia and the angst filled poetic Death of⁹ Hamlet, the dane, the insa8ne Prince. The next day we stood there, by the riverbank aye, and a black raven flew down and sat itself on a branch. And we said aye, it's the soul of the drowned man having come back from inferno itself to dewover us! We let our hair out, stood there in White gowns, smiles on our lips.