Haunted Wood Dancing with the Devil

phone post

She had not realized her eyes had closed, that the heaving of her own chest had slowed until the phantom feeling of pain snaked up her frame. Those pants became ragged once more as those fear filled eyes snapped open only her dream seemed to seep into her waking world once more.

she was a broken angel on his doorstep,  her wings tattered and almost unrecognizable before she looked up into eyes that were eerily similar to her own but he wore a clock of deep russet amd she waa colorless. He wrapped around her much smaller form as if to embrace her, to caress the fear that still clung to her skin. She could not help the whimper that escapes her pale lips, the shiver that racked her spine as his words reach her pinned ears. 

Little dove, what are you doing on my doorstep.

this forest was his, this devil's place to roam and here she was. Broken and in his grasp but his words were soft and soothing to her wounds. No one had spoken to her like that, had they? She parted her lips as she tried to answer, how hushed and cracked they came from disuse. "I.. I.. I do not.. know.." they shook, it was obvious they were not use to forming words. Maybe more accustomed to screaming?