#119 Ball of the Fey

On a rare red moon, I received a card as fine as spider's web; an invitation to the ball of the fey. I followed the will-o'-the-wisps to the vineyard; the grapes were fresh and clouded with a fine mist. I drank their sweet nectar -honey dripping deliciously over my lips- as the many hands of beautiful beings lingered on my skin. They were radiant as the stars. Their warm bodies made me drowsy as we danced from dawn ‘til dusk. This midsummer night’s dream never ended, and, lost in deep sleep, I never returned to the realm of mortal men.