They sent correspondence;
for months conversed, through screens, and paper torn from anxious envelopes.
They intrigued, the questions of origins endless.
Her exuberance exultant in him, his mystery unraveling in her.
The wells of them were deep, but the water residing was tainted in him, yet, somehow she exulted in the fresh foreign taste.
She sat upon the head of stone, basking in the serenity of the living, caressing silence of the heavy bone yard. The silver eye revealed itself and granting her vision; He stood before her as her watch audibly struck midnight. His tenuous, stark pallor matching the garden stones, and her shock, creeping icily up her legs, and squeezing its fingers deep into her belly.
He smirked, indulgently.
She nervously, excitedly smiled, barely.
“How’d you find me? How did you get here?”
His smile blossoming with hers, “there’s so much that I would say.”
They talked til morning, as the golden rays pierced the cemetery fog, the bird's cooing cut straight through the magical silence to welcome reality back with a more natural song. Amidst the sweet October throng, he began to fade. His feet and hands began to drift with the lingering vapours, “don’t go!” she cried, but he just smiled, “I’ll be back tonight with wine.”
At that she laughed a little and said goodbye, all day watching the clock and the sky for the descent of darkness and for the moon to rise.