Friday, 30 October 2015

#whimword - Hallow

The night air is chill and smells of grave earth. It is autumn and the trees are all but bare. Even though I'm not affected by the cold I instinctively pull my cloak closer about me; long memory forces me into habits I no longer need. The moon rises too slowly for my tastes and I must wait, though I am increasingly impatient as the time drawers nearer.

Soon we will be together again my love.

Every moment we are apart tears at me like a knife, but there is nothing I can do but wait. I should not love you, lord knows I don't deserve to, but so help me I do.

I cannot enter the cemetery; hallowed ground is forbidden to the undead such as myself. All I can do is loiter by the entrance and hope that the magic holds for one more year; that come midnight on All Hallow's Eve the spell will be complete and we will have a few brief hours of bliss.

My stomach growls and I do my best to ignore its pangs. I haven't fed for days. Long experience has taught me that my nerves cannot handle a full stomach come Halloween and that there is nothing romantic about regurgitating blood. I ignore the scent of nearby mortals and the way my hunting instinct kicks in. Tonight I have more pressing business to attend to.

The clock of the nearby church chimes twelve and I hold my breath in excitement, though technically I do not need to breathe at all. As the last ring of the bell fades away I notice that the air feels different; she is coming.

From my vantage point I have a clear view as the spectre of my beloved rises from her grave. If my heart still beat it would have stopped at the sight of her. I wish I could be beside her as she rises but alas, she must come to me.

"Greetings, Sebastian. You're looking well," she says with a smile.

I take her ghostly hand and press it's to my cold, blue lips. "And you, my beloved Felicity are a sight for sore eyes. You're as beautiful as the day I met you."

I mean it too. Her hair was greyer and her skin more wrinkled the day she died than when we met, but that is the price that must be paid when the undead falls in love with a mortal. Circumventing death was trickier but I managed to negotiate a compromise.

We only have a few hours until dawn so we make the most of them. One night a year when the veil between worlds is thinnest is far from ideal, but we've managed for over a century.

When I think of the alternative, never seeing her again, I shudder. Our brief time together isn't much, but it's enough. This was the only way we could be together forever, so we endure.

Our love for each other keeps us going.

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