The witch of midnight's veil: a tale from the foggy graveyard

In the heart of a foggy, dark medieval Celtic crypt at night, a 60-year-old witch, lying on her back and elbows on a glossy black marble tombstone, stared shockingly into the deep V opening of her long, elegant, transparent wedding dress. Her very ugly face was framed by long straight blonde hair, with big greenish-hazel eyes, round eyes, wrinkles at the eyes that told tales of age and secrets. She was a sight to behold, with very dark tanned skin, muscular legs, high arches, and very high heels stiletto with no lace. Her nude vagina, dripping wet and hairy, was a vivid contrast against the cold stone beneath her. A snake's shape gold arm adorned with a spade pendant dangled near her black anklet chain, a golden necklace around her wrinkled neck. Her lips were painted dark red, long eyelashes fluttering as she blew into the chilly air, her breath creating shadows on her eyes.