Hell and Heaven are but two portals in the After Life realm. Between them lies a battered path, with haunting trees soaring on its sides, and thick mist twining about them. The mist grows lighter as one travels toward the portal of Heaven, and grows darker and more forboding closer to that of Hell’s.
Shimmering silver wraiths slip through these mists, never straying from the path, but wandering restlessly within its confines. These are the lost souls, who have been placed on the Soul Path for they know not which way to travel. Even those so horrid that a mention of their name can cause Death to visit, in a deep recess of their mind, they know that what they do is wrong. Yet these souls know not that. They are lost, they have no sense of identity, forever exiled into their mind in search of themselves.
I am one of the trees that mark the boundaries of the Soul Path. My siblings and I are each the first tree of our kind. We hold inside a power that defines a person, if they had been stripped to the very essence of their being. Though some of us are strong and proud, I am the first Willow tree, The Melancholy.
For those who are too empathetic in their world of black and white, I shall welcome you below my branches. A restless dreamer who no one finds easy to live with will find only smiles as they approach, and time to dream as they wish. Those who are honest, demanding and have good intuition, here you shall be appreciated. No matter how melancholy you are, as long as you are beneath my falling branches, you are protected.