The Stranger in the Mist
[MARIA - @thebeholdersden]
[JAMES - @indarkwaters]
He counted the colours in her eyes.
They were different from Mary's. Blue, like the piercing summer sky from a world so long ago, so far away from the suffocating mist that encapsulated this peculiar town. The smell of forbidden nectar danced about the strands of her sun-kissed hair as she twirled around, of the kind that enticed the unwitting company of insects that would fall victim to its grasp. Her clothes adorned her body like fire; sanguine folds, desire woven into form-fitting fabric. Nothing that his late wife would ever dare wear.
But her voice... it was like hers. God, she sounded just like her. Whispers of their long nights together flooded into his mind, warm bodies entwined in their bed. A caress on his cheek, speaking sweet-nothings and anticipation of a tender future.
And yet...
He knew that that possibility, that this woman... this stranger, could not be Mary.
No longer had he been standing on the pristine banks of their honeymoon, overlooking a lake that the locals claimed to promise them with an unforgettable getaway from distant problems. Such problems, it seemed, had only rooted itself further into his world. The insidious nature of the town - of something accursed - quietly dormant until his approach, like the sleeping body of Leviathan stirring amidst its ancient sleep.
This was no longer a place of dreams. He was a mere prisoner here, an uninvited guest in a dimension where the distortions ones' mind walked freely. Mary - Maria - was no different to them.
"I'm sorry," James said, voice tentative, an inherent caution tinting every syllable as they were pried from dried lips. He would not trust his senses if the devil haunted them. "I think I'd mistaken you. For someone else."