This is the opening two paragraphs of what I am currently working on. Any comments?
The air was chilled and the fog thick. The mist seemed to be heavy and cold – almost as though the souls of the dead were trying to cling to life. There was no wind in this, the darkest hour of the night – even the banshees had stilled their shrill cries. Ill fate abounds on nights as eerie as this. Even more superstitions ran amok about this Great Stone Circle that lay buried under moss and the heavy mist that hung in the air. Upon each pillar of the Great Stone Circle sat a proud raven –black beady eyes gleaming in the moonlight that provided a blue tint to their feathers. The ravens lent a somewhat sinister feeling to the air.
A man and woman endured the chill present in the center of the Great Stone Circle that had stood for centuries untold. The stones under the moss seemed to glow with an ethereal light. None but the two of them were on the ground and neither of them looked happy. The deep scowls on their faces indicated that they were livid beyond the point of rage. Their frozen faces resembled the cold carvings that adorned the stones around them. The heated blood roaring in their veins giving a blush of color to their pale pallor.