(Repost) Twelth Minor Spirit of October: On a Misty Trail

[roseembolism]

 Reposted from...elsewhere.

Twelfth Minor Spirit of October
On a Misty Trail
Instead of Inktober, I'm doing a spirit a day for October.

Ephemeral, caught between water and air, fog spirits have always desired to court oblivion in the form of lightning. In the old days they swarmed high mountain tops and stormy seas, waiting for lighting strikes in the right location. Now though, it's easy; they simply swarm power lines, the hot iron alive with electricity.

Stand under the metal towers and listen; that fizzing sound you hear on misty nights is their ecstacy on tasting death.

Don't climb the towers yourself; death has a different meaning for them.