The still water

The fair-haired Jane Etenburg walked calmly through the castle halls, feeling no emotion, not even caution. It was completely noiseless, though when noises sound Jane would become slippery and thin: a spirit. A silvery deer, galloping through the walls, trying to find water. Still water.

Nothing can stand long without water, though usually it is because of dehydration. For Jane, and others, it was the fear of evaporation. As she galloped, a lake came into sight. A light icy blue, fringed with frosty grass, she bowed her head and drank. For a few hours, it would be enough. She resumed her human form and carried on walking. The spirits (also know as spires) were feared among the common folk, and were often mistaken for banshees.

Jane had known a still life, not tainted with the town folk forming angry mobs, as many did. It was a quiet existence, much like a ghost. She was tall with an almost fictional, memorable face, like on the cover of pride and prejudice, her face framed with amber tresses that came down to her waist. This was the day that she would lose that…

It was a small man with short grey hair and prune-like skin. The kind that is constantly grumbling and enjoys the quiet life. He saw Jane and gave a small moan, lifting a rock and throwing it in his defence. Jane screamed as if she WAS a banshee AnD that was the last sound she made.

She hadn’t reached the still water in time.