The Ghost Veil

THE GHOST VEIL

Arafin © 2008

It was so long ago since she first met him, that dark eyed soldier trying to make his way back home from some senseless conflict in a distant land under a strange and hazy sun. In his eagerness to see his homeland he had attempted a short cut through the mountains and mistakenly wandered into her little valley realm, a realm where she ruled with absolute authority, yet authority never in need of force. No. This lady of a forgotten time had at her fingertips a means of persuasion far more efficient than any sword or catapult, far more able to conquer than any massive assault or long siege. And it was with this persuasion that she had captivated the mind, body, heart, and soul of the young soldier with the dark flashing eyes.

Long ago when her forbearers had established this tiny sanctuary between the peaks of these remote mountains, the first queen in the long line of which she now held title, had woven a magic veil of white lilies, forgetmenots, and a little white flower found no where else on Earth. Into this gossamer cloth the ancient queen also wove all her magic and skills. Skills of bold hypnotic entrancement and of subtle conversational seduction. Skills of careful manipulation and of sweetest pleasures. For twenty one days she wove and then her work was done. In the frail white fabric were sewn spells which, in the hands of the rightful heir, could do to men’s minds what a prism does to white light, expand and color it into a rainbow of delicious jubilation. It could also do something else. It could absorb in ways too wonderful to fully comprehend.

The handsome soldier had only thought of stopping long enough to drink some water and perhaps ask where he might procure a meal, but the clever queen with hair like white gold had seen him and walked down from her terrace to meet him and work the magic she had worked so many times before. Approaching as if she were a schoolgirl, shy and wistful, (for she wore no robes denoting office), she let her gaze slip into his curious eyes. At once he found himself both aroused and bemused. Was she signaling him that she was willing to lay with him or just playing a youthful game? The answer to his unspoken question soon became clear as that little smile which had disarmed so many spread so slowly between the corners of her exquisite mouth that it seemed almost to stop time with it’s slowness.

Gazing like a statue he watched from within himself as this gorgeous creature raised the soft white veil above her head, swept it high, where it billowed on the still air for a moment before descending like a gentle mist over him, confusing his thoughts, jumbling his senses, and quite completely draining his will. She laughed now as he stared helpless and unable to move, his heart racing and his manhood straining against his leather breaches. With every fiber of his being he wanted this experience to both continue forever and climax in a fiery explosion of orgasm. She drew near to him now and bent her head to his ear to whisper.

A spell so soft and so clever was spoken then, combined with the spell of the veil, that the poor man had not even the slightest recollection of these events as the years passed and he raised a family and grew old in his home country across the wide mountains to the North. She had taken what she wanted and sent him gladly on his way with his satchel full of food and several skins of sweet well water to drink as he followed the little map she had drawn herself. He had found his way back to the main road and made it home after a fortnight, and she, she had gone back up to her terrace to savor that which she had taken and wait for the next handsome traveller to lose his way.

Whenever she was lonely for a mate she would don naught but the white veil, walk along the carefully crafted stone hallways of her high abode, and relish the sensations which emanated from that magic wisp of cloth. As sunlight touched this fairy mesh and she whispered the secret words, the veil would connect her to whatever lover she chose who the veil had ensnared, and in his dreams he would know passion such as waking life could never yield while she would waltz and shimmer to the music of the pleasure she had wrought. Only in his dreams would the young soldier remember the golden queen in the little mountain valley, believing it to be just that, a product of the mind. But she, she would savor for hundreds of years the joy she had known with him on that long ago sunny afternoon. The veil, like a ghost of dreamy love’s embrace, would hold these memories for her and all of her line that would follow.

Down through the ages the thin white veil would pass. Down through the ages would drift the dreams of love too sweet for even song to praise.