Not yet Stolen by the Fae

If I was being sacrificed to some ancient elder god, I would not put up a fight. I would try my best to look pretty for them. I would crouch down at the altar without being forced. I would hold my neck out like a lamb that knows just what was about to happen, but also knows that they are simply not strong enough to have a choice. I would close my eyes softly, and give a gentle smile as I feel a hand gripping my hair and forcing my head back. I would cry beautifully as the knife divides the arteries in my neck like a deadly crossroads. I would fall asleep for the last time, knowing that I would belong to something far greater than myself. I would not go into the light, but instead into the many, many arms of the first thing to ever truly want me. I would curl up in their loving embrace, crying to them like a scared child. I would nuzzle into their form and thank them for showing me such kindness. I would smile as they finally begin to absorb my soul into them, making me into a happy, beloved piece of them. I would feel the boundaries of my soul fizzling away, letting my essence join with them. I would feel everything that is me slipping away, gently bringing me to a warm oblivion. I would finally know peace. I would finally know love.

Thinking about this one day when I was in Chicago and it was so foggy that the buildings turned 2D