There she sat, atop the cliff. Watching, Listening, waiting.
She spoke no word as the waves crashed against the rocks.
Midnight was upon her, or so it seemed. Midnight, the time of the fairy folk and of the creatures in myths old.
Her silken cheeks were painted alabaster in the paleness of the moonlight. There she sat, like a monument for the world to see. But no one saw, and no one heard.
She let the moonlight caress her face as she listened to the song that echoed throughout the eve.
A silent tear crept down her face, what was wrong with this maiden fair?
A soft whimper came out a sob, a sob that told of the story she had to tell.
Her empty eyes glistened with tears, as she stood and started to walk away.
No one knew she was here, and no one had to know. No one even cared.
There she stood, atop the cliff. Like a martyr sentenced to death.
No one saw, no one heard, no one cared.
As the streaks of light broke through the dark, she disappeared.
With no one to tell of her presence but the wind that traveled the skies. No one to believe she stayed, no one to love and care.
What curse had befallen this maiden fair, to live such a life of sadness and despair?