Will-o'-the-wisp

A late autumn evening, Signalled winter's fast approaching, Winds slightly brushed my face, The birds were cooing in a mellowed breeze. Then, the weather took a nosedive, Increasing the wind infinitesimally, Leading to my involuntary clatter of teeth. Then, a shiver ran through me. Oh! To what fate I've deserved, To bear such a sight. My strength has deserted me in the hour of need, Making my face pale and white. When I spotted a lady, covered in white. It was unusual for a women her age, Wandering in the forest alone.

Due to the dark hour quickly approaching, I could only see to what was permissible. She was looking straight at me, Her impenetrable gaze never left my sight. As if trying to look into my mind, Like she'd want to latch onto my fears. She was holding a bright flickering light, Which unveiled her freckled skin. Her bloody red nails appeared razor sharp, And she wore an enigmatic grin.

Even though, it was a late autumn evening, Still, sweat trickled down my forehead. I remained affixed to my spot, Conveying my final prayer to dear god. This was the end, it seemed. Then, a sudden voice distracted me, Causing me to spin around. It was my father who called, My! He was livid and scared, With a certain edge in his voice. 'What are you doing here son? Come fast', he said, 'There has been a murder', he managed finally. I nodded to his disappearing figure, And looked back into the women's direction, Only to see her vanish, As if she has disappeared into thin air.

I made my way to the said location, Only to bear the witness the story of few villagers, Claiming the murder of a young boy. 'He was following the flickering lights', said one, 'And ended up in the marshes', finished the other, 'We were too late to save him', concluded the third man. The whole village was gripped in chaos and fear, Insisting, that he fell prey of a bad omen. But, little do they know about the truth, For I could've met the same fate. Oh! It was not an omen, It was only, but the 'will-o'-the-wisp'.