“Take my hand, little one,” she said to me. Her pearl white hand reached through the glom to pull me up. My skin tingled at the touch of hers. It was icy and hardened like stone. “Are you an Angel?” I called out to her, “Have you come to save me?” I tried to make out her face, but it was too dark, and the fog was too thick. Her silkened voice echoed against the trees, “I’m no Angel, mon cher, and though I cannot save you, I have come to help more…

Source: She: A Short Story – Kim V. Poetry