Something that came out of the poem with the same name.......

The house absorbed the last rays of the dying sun, the sandstone glowed blood red. An upstairs casement with it’s glazed windows reflected blindly. Muffled screams forced the gardners to glance up at the closed casement, then look at one another, sadly shook their heads at the thought of yet another possible heir losing his battle for life before it had even begun.  One gardener ambled off t’wards the woods and slowly disappeared amongst the trees.

Inside the room, a woman of noble birth struggled to keep her babe from being born too early. Her white brow creased in pain and terror as once again the pains assailed her. Her hair, once a silky flaxen, now hung lank and lifeless against her grey and withered face. The fire across the room illuminated the birthing chamber, rich with rare jewel woven tapestries, depicting flaura and fauna ( for that is the way of the English).

Deep inside the wood, the gardener walked quickly towards the mist. As he entered, it obscured him. In front was a small wooden structure, the casements stood empty the breeze flowed through into the one roomed house. He stood at the door and humbly waited. Firelight played softly on the figures surrounding the bed, rich coloured cloth glowed, garments worn by those we dare not speak of ….The Fey.

One, who cannot be named, approached him, as they whispered together a scream tore through the house and echoed around the wood, for here too was a woman that struggled in childbed, knowing (unlike the other) that only one could live.

The great mansion was quiet, muffled sobs floated through the casement that was now opened to rid the room of a memory to painful to be borne. Her ladyship dozed fitfully the laudnum induced dreams became real.

The light glowed softly around them as they entered the chamber, whispers and quiet sobs ebbed and flowed, for they too mourned, not for her, but for the girl child they were to leave in her care this night, for the bairns loss of her mothers love, for the knowledge that one of their own would be reared by humans.

They circled the chosen woman, these Fey, entered her dreams and instructed her to love, and cherish this gift that must be.  They called her Aisling.

The years flew by. The daughter grew and brought joy to the house of the English lords and to all who dwelt therein. Her laughter rang through the house, her parents called themselves blest as she blossomed in beauty and knowledge.

The day dawned, her mother woke with dread in her heart for she knew this day would bring sorrow to her husbands house as once the ladies of the mist had promised

She left the stone mansion that day, schooled in the ways of the human. On Samhain she brought death to the house of the English.

She left to rule as her mother once did.

Inside the Mist

© Lisa Cannons 2/10/03