Cruel Love

With a blurred vision from another sleepless night of study, Mr. Crawley entered his dimly lit parlor. The exhausted fire crackled into the musky air as a sudden feeling overwhelmed him, its foreboding presence raising the hairs on his body.

“How cruel you are, my love…” a whisper invaded his senses. Mr. Crawley rubbed his stinging eyes, dreading the voice which was haunting him again. How many years had it been since he had last known peace? He could not say. His imaginings had strengthened from prolonged, neglected rest.

“Who are you, and why must you torture me so?” Mr. Crawley muttered, not daring to raise his own voice above a whisper.

A single, low note from the open piano was his only response.

“Stop this! Tell me who you are. Whether you be spirit of health or goblin damned.”

As the pale moonlight crept through the window, a lovely woman’s form appeared. Mr. Crawley could not help but admire its beauty.

Transfixed, he stood silent as the lady began her melancholy song. An unearthly wailing reverberated in tune with her music.

“How cruel you are, my love…” she said, nearly drowned out by the piano.

Mr. Crawley continued as he was, heartbroken with no explanation. Their tears merged together, as they once were in life, mourning what could not be properly remembered.