It's grey.
It's hard to see through the thick fog,
making even the colossal, ancient trees,
shadows of themselves.
The small dirt path I had been following
had disappeared from under my feet
shortly after the fog made everything...
so grey.
I walked, or wandered,
wishing I could will myself away from this place.
Why had I been here to begin with?
I couldn't remember.
Maybe something about a cat?
Or a rat...
Eventually, after some years,
I came acrosst an odd brick building,
covered in moss.
The ground surrounding it was blackened,
burnt by a fire that hadn't touched the brick building,
for the moss was green and old.
It was the first thing besides trees and fog that I had seen
for hundreds of years.
I considered walking past it, giving it a wide berth.
I went inside instead.
Inside was red and floral carpet and big comfortable furniture and,
under all that,
the smell of woman's hair, the feeling of hazel eyes watching.
Being in that brick house,
I realized for the first time in three centuries how tired I was.
I hadn't slept since the fog rolled in.
I lay down on a big comfy looking couch,
the kind thats good for sleeping on.
I think I fell asleep even before my eyes had shut.
I dreamt of a white haired girl,
making her back arch,
and feeling the peach fuzz in the small of it.
I woke up and, for the first time in a long time,
I felt lonely.
