Giselle

A light mist shrouded her grave

The air was cool

The grass, damp.

She looked lonely

Amongst the wandering wraiths

A wreath of lilies,

Rested upon her ebony locks

Her alabaster skin,

Pale in the night light.

Her lips curled into a beguiling smile

Beckoning me forward, into her icy embrace

I sensed death.

I turned and fled.