Wash Wood

Gia and Sage were waiting under the Spanish Moss that draped over the boughs of every tree in the Wash Wood cemetery. There was something both charming and unsettling about the wisps of plant life that appeared like a haunting white veil, blowing in the wind against a backdrop of shadows. 

Gia rubbed her arms as she wandered around, looking at each of the gravestones and the ruins of a church steeple that remained when everything else here had been worn away by time and the elements. 

"Are you cold?" Sage appeared next to her, drawing her gaze away from one of the headstones that belonged to a child. 

"No," she smiled up at him.