The fog descended quickly. Before the residents of the village knew it, they were surrounded by a thick pea soup, and they couldn’t see their hands in front of their faces.
Through the murky green, echoing footsteps could be heard. Mocking laughter. Scrapes and clangs. Screams.
Beneath one of the barely visible streetlights, the owner of one such scream stood frozen. He’d looked up at the light and watched as the Veiled Lady peeled herself out through the swirling hypnotic fog.
She began to sing. An enchanting warble that electrified the atmosphere around the villager. He couldn’t resist the temptation to look into the banshee’s hungry eyes.
She blinked and he was surrounded in darkness.
The veil had consumed another.
Elsewhere through the fog, yet another scream could be heard… the veil was feeding well.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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