The hills rolled on forever, deep into the mist, and yet, she knew that far beyond her sight the world awaited, the depressing potholes, the vain cars, broken windows and promises. She loved the mist, how it hid everything, how she could dreamily stare out into it hoping for a dragon, a knight, cavaliers and jesters, mysterious mystics and pious monks, to be but a hill away. She dreamed, surveying those rising hills, of kings and queens, their courts, the affairs, the romance, all within that blessed mist hanging between her and the dreary world she knew would always be.
Drabble: The Blessed Mist
Tale Told 