The fallen moon hung in the twisted black branches of the lonely tree, her pearlescent white hair hanging across branches like moss or spiderwebs. She sighed, her open mough showing perfect white teeth. Her posture was remeniscent of lounging, her feet up, one olive arm resting on a second branch, the other held across her stomach.

She wore a midnight blue dress with an empire waistline and long off the shoulder sleeves, its loose skirt swaying in the wind where if hung to her side. The skirts glittered silver. Her feet were bare, her neck and wrists hung with strings of pearls.

The moon stared up at the sky. Her eyes were completely pitch black, her face soft and round. She frowned before finally turning and silently staring at me.

The scent struck me then, a clear and clean fragrance. The crickets seemed to get momentarily louder. I flinched and grimaced, squeezed my eyes shut as the noise overwhelmed me.

When I opened them again the moon was floating above the ground, her dress and hair and necklace floating as if they were underwater, her eyes shut. She smiled at me. The real moon, the celestial body rather than the woman, appeared behind her where it hadn't been a moment ago. It seemed to blend with her hair, which grew brighter as I watched. It never got to a point where I had to stop looking, but more and more of her body lit with it until all of her became enveloped.

When the light suddenly blinked out, the moon was gone.