Claw Finger. The White Witch. The Pale Maiden. The Mist Bride. The Snow Queen.
If you know any of these many names, you are already in danger. You must heed these words to learn to defend yourself.
The more you learn about her, the greater her interest in you grows. It is already too late by the time you are reading this. You have passed the point of no return. Keep reading.
Her hand, her bony, pale hand, like a corpse-hand, it's always the same gesture. Her index finger, curling, and uncurling. Her wrist, swaying back and forth. Beckoning you. Keep reading.
Her dress and veil, flowing curtains of white, plumes of obscuring fog, hiding her inhuman form. Keep reading.
Her shadow, shifting and swift, vast and vapid. Strange limbs like scorpion tails and plant vines spring forth. Keep reading.
Her eyes, grey as the morning a grandmother dies, gazing with desire, and with triumph. Their reddened whites, the sight of them damning. Keep reading.
Her lips, stretched and frostbitten, ice-white. Her kiss, chilling and numbing, on your forehead, lethargic and forgetful. Keep reading.
She at first watches from afar. A vague figure in the distant fog. Waiting for you to notice. Keep reading.
Once you notice, she starts coming closer. You might make out her dress blowing in the wind. You still have a chance to escape her. Keep reading.
She hates the laughter of children and the smiles of parents. Tell her story to a happy person and watch their face drop. They are her target now. Keep reading.
But if you have managed to see her finger, curling, beckoning, then you must not tell a soul about her. She is bound to you, engaged. Keep reading.
At this stage you must keep watch on her. She never moves while watched. She hates people to know how she does it. It would scare them. Keep reading.
If, by your failure to watch her, you have managed to see her shadow, its metamorphosis foul, then all you can do is pray. She may spare you. Keep reading.
And if, by her refusal of mercy, do you see her eyes, viscous tears streaming from them, you must not look at them. Watch every part of her but her eyes. Keep reading.
She may yet leave you alone. Draw a pentagram (a star within a circle) on your floor and stand within it. Then, spin thrice, opposite the direction of Earth's rotation. Keep reading.
Once you have seen her sclera, that is to say, the bloodshot whites of her eyes, it is far too late. She will soon seal your fate with a kiss of dew and frost. Keep reading.
There is but one hope, one last chance to save your life. Kiss her hand before she kisses you. She does not respect your courage. It is only that your courage makes you less suitable prey, and she may seek out another. Tell another person her story, just to be safe. Keep reading.
She will place a ring of cold silver around your middle finger. It will fit perfectly at first, but your finger will swell, and it will become impossible to remove. It will never feel warm. Keep reading.
After this point, your life will come to an end shortly. The kiss will make you forget your friends, your family, and all that you care about. The ring will make you sickly, tired, and without any hope for the world.
You will rot in your bed, until one day, she will wake you from your sleep, and you will take your own life as she watches with those red, watery, overcast eyes. She will be there at your funeral, and she will stalk someone who loved you next.
