The man didn't know where he was. He looked down at his feet, feeling betrayed by them. Why was he here? His feet stared back silently at this accusation. The man tried to regain his senses but it was as if a thick fog had filled his mind; nothing made sense. All he could think about was the rough dirt path he was standing on, leading down into the valley. Half of him wanted to turn back and escape this strange predicament he had found himself him, yet his feet refused to listen. They stayed stubbornly rooted to the ground, refusing to move a single step in any direction except onward. The sudden loss of autonomy unsettled him.
Obliging, the man continued down the dirt path. The rocky path got increasingly narrower and the black night sky became shrouded by tall, twisted ancient yew trees that lined both sides of the path. Only the moonlight that filtered through the trees lit up his path forward. The man felt claustrophobic, the branches of the yew trees looming over him felt like hands ready to trap him at any moment. A cool night breeze brushing against his neck sent goosebumps racing down his back.
Out of the corner of his eye, a quick movement amongst the tangled yew trees caught his attention. His body instantly froze, leaving his breath caught in his throat. Not daring to even let a muscle twitch, the man's gaze apprehensively shifted to his left, almost terrified of what would meet his eyes. Yet, it was just branches gently swaying in the wind, causing relief to shoot through him. He's overthinking, there's nothing there. He could breathe again. As he regained his composure, an eerie thought crept into his mind. What if he wasn't alone on this path? Immediately, he shook his head furiously, as if physically trying to remove this idea from his consciousness. Reassuring himself of his solitude, he continued onwards, markedly more spooked than before.
The ancient woodlands started to crowd around the path so thickly that he had to push his way through the branches to advance. He didn't know why he was doing this, but it felt like every cell in his body was screaming at him to continue on. The sharp branches mercilessly scraped at his bare skin, leaving their marks as red trails. Still, the man forced his way through the tough, dense vegetation. Suddenly, the resistance disappeared and he tumbled headfirst onto a clearing. He had reached the end of the path at last! Overjoyed, the man jumped onto his feet. It turns out that he had made his way to a small village down in the valley. The thatched cottages, haphazardly scattered around a large moonlit lake, meant that there were people who he could ask for help.
Oddly, the village was dead silent. Not even a whisper could be heard. Making his way to the nearest cottage, he politely knocked on the door. Yet, after a few moments of waiting, only silence greeted him. He tried to peer into the windows but all its shutters were drawn. Puzzled, the man tried again at the next cottage. His luck did not change. They're probably not home, but maybe there'll be someone next door. This self-reassurance proved useless when still no response was received by the tenth house. The feeling of fear that the man had been fighting the whole way there had finally started to claw its way up his back, wrapping itself around his throat, causing him to gulp nervously. Panic bubbled inside him as his eyes darted around the village, hoping to catch even the smallest sign of life, something to show him that he wasn't utterly, hopelessly alone.
It was then that the night breeze carried a soft, twinkling giggle to him. His head instantly whipped around in the direction of the sound. It was coming from the lake! The man sped towards the lake, holding out hope in his heart that someone was there, someone who could help him get out of this strange situation he had found himself in. His prayers seemed to be answered when he saw a figure moving under the weeping willow on the lakeside. Approaching slowly, the figure's features began to gain clarity. It was a lady, hair as black as raven, skin so pale she glowed under the moonlight. She couldn't have been more than nineteen, her doe eyes reflecting her innocence. The lady did not seem to notice the man as she danced, her steps so light she appeared weightless. Her white dress flowing freely along with her moves, like ripples in a lake.
The man stood behind her, slightly stunned. However, his captivation quickly gave way to his urgency. Coughing nervously, the man made his presence known. The lady froze mid-spin at this intrusion. She spun around and stared at the man wordlessly, her gaze burning into his. He fidgeted uncomfortably at the coldness at which he was received.
"I'm lost. Can you help me?" The man appealed.
She let out a soft giggle at the distress in his voice.
"Sure. But first, dance with me."
The lady stretched out her slender hand towards him, inviting him to join her dance. The man, incredulous at this strange request, gawked at her for a moment, before realising that he didn't have any other options. He needed her help. His hand clasped hers, the coolness of her skin startling him. There was no music, save for the rustling of the weeping willow against the wind. Yet, she swept him up in the dance, guiding his every movement. She flashed him a sweet smile as they moved, which the man happily returned, grateful to have met someone willing to save him.
Her doe eyes locked onto his, refusing to let his gaze wander. The man stared back into her eyes with intrigue. Such enchanting eyes. Weird that they have no depth though. They almost look...dead. Chills ran down his legs from this observation, but it wasn't just that - he was knee-deep in ice-cold water. He gasped in shock and tried to let go of the lady's hand. But her grip on him tightened, locking his hands onto hers with an iron-clad force. Her skinny frame held inhuman strength. The smile carved on her face never dropped, as she watched the man struggle with all his might against her. Realising that there was no way he could break free from her, the man screeched in a mix of horror and regret. His desperate screams and frantic thrashing in the water were melodies to her, and she made them dance to these newfound instrumentals deeper and deeper into the lake.
Over in the village, the villagers huddled together in their rooms gasped as wretched shrieks pierced through the tranquil night. They exchanged horrified glances with their loved ones without making a peep, their hearts bursting with terror. A common understanding hung heavy amongst them all. The Lady of the Lake had claimed her victim. They felt sorry for the man, who had desperately banged on their doors for help. It was his misfortune that he was outside on the rare times that the Lady exited the lake. Slowly, the painful screams died away, and so did the dread that shrouded the village. All that remained was the softly swaying willow, waving goodbye to another Lost Man.