Banshee

In the fog that mixes with rain and flies on the wind-torn silence, sometimes—tick-tock—the gate creaks: the banshee has arrived. A spirit in the shape of an old woman who steps onto the road when someone is destined to die in an hour. The banshee can be a beautiful girl you once deceived and broke her heart… She stood leaning against a tree in a long garment the color of the moon; her heavy wool shawl, reaching down to her hips, fluttered, trembled, and waved a wing at the wind.