By Silent Note

It was the eve of a cold December’s night. Not a soul patrolled or paraded on the streets, for fear of losing one’s limbs in the bitter cold. It was a magical night, all the streets cleared of the comings and goings of busy folk. All cleared for the white stars that fell from heaven. It was in this, that I sat in the house of my father, and of his father before him. Portraits and lavish decoration was a clear reminder of the high caliber my family had been regarded as in their living years. 1

It was this prestige that I surrendered when I gave my heart to Julia. A common girl, my family called her, and openly expressed their displeasure at our bonding. Now it was on a night, very much like this one, where She lay with Death on her softchest. With but a foot left in the world of the Living. I flitted through a many a memory. But none remained as strong within me as her voice, which the angels themselves coveted. The first to go when the she was smitten by plague. Her voice was cool as the summit of a mountain, and yet burned holes in you with it’s fire. A fire which the angels themselves sought to steal from me Putting to rest my memory of the girl that was, I fell fast asleep. I was disturbed that night, however, by the caress of a hand on the hardened flesh of my cheek. 2

Instantly this hardened flesh melted into softness, like the hand of an angel. Still at the border of my slumber, I began to hear the music. Her music. I still shut my eyes, not wishing to disturb the moment and destroy the realism of a thing which could not be. The voice grew louder and sweeter still, and I forced myself to open my eyes and once again see the face that I had so often seen in my dreams.3

I opened them to see a miracle had happened. Perhaps the angels experienced remorse for taking my jewel from me, for there she stood, as she once was before the scars left by disease. A man less consumed by love can not begin to touch the surface of the joy I felt. It is better have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, but it is far better to have loved and lost and have your4

love returned to, gifted-wrapped it seemed by a seraph and thrust once more into my open arms.5

As I said before I was reluctant to believe the miracle that had befell me and I gently pushed Her away. I stared into her eyes, those eyes that had seen everything and only reflected back the ocean. So hand in hand as if school children we began to walk, we were the only sight seen on the street that night. Never had a pair been so happy as we, for we had each other to keep warm6

on this bitter night.7

“Come, let me see you by moonlight, let me see you the way you were meant to have been seen” She said not a word but obeyed me, she stepped into a thin shade of moonlight. Instead of seeing the midnight pour on to her face and brighten it so that I could see the world in the red of her cheeks, she vanished before my eyes. This maiden had come to ease my troubles, and now this fair maiden dressed in white had vanished right before my eyes. I reached for her once again and I called to her, but there was not a cry sounded that night other than my own. My knees gave out before me as I looked into my future and saw nothing but blackness, an undying8

ambience of death itself. It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, far better to have loved and lost and gain love back, and far worse to have loved and lost and gained9

love back, only to sample and have love once again snatched by the sway of demons with the10

countenance of angels. They would hear my cry tonight.11

“Cursed be the ones who rent love to the broken hearted! Fiends! Return what you have taken, relinquish your avarice for what has never been yours! I will not have this loan, I long to lay next to Her in the Tomb of Dreams!” I returned to my home with nothing but a sunken heart and thoughts of forced reunion with my dear. Once indoors I took no procrastination in throwing off the cover to the grand mirror, the cursed thing where she would comb her hair as I admired her, where she would sing and possess me once more. After her passing I could not bear to look at the mirror for fear that my bitterness had migrated externally. I threw off the cover in a fit of rage. I stared at a horrifying sight. I looked the same as I did before with my graying hair and my dull blue eyes but this rage gave me a countenance unsurpasable by the severest of deformities. I turned, no longer to bear the ugliness and I began to destroy my personal possessions, the heirlooms from my father and my ancient family name. I spared no jewel, no material item was left within an12

inch of it’s former self. I destroyed with unimaginable powers, previously unbeknown to me.13

Once more I turned to face the sight of a man who had lost everything twofold. Instead I saw Her14

again, but not as she once was. Now she wore a mask of death. Her rotting form was adorned by the clothing of her espousal to me. Where her eyes once were I saw only holes, left by the eyes eaten by the vermin of the earth. But those eyes held as much power over me as her eyes of the sea once did, for those eyes showed me in them. I embraced the ghastly figure, and I felt Her hand touch my face and I accepted the proposed eternal reunion. My form melted into hers, forever bonded.