Romantic Horror short story

Lenore

Surrounded by the shimmering essence of the stars sits the moon, longing to shine brightly as it has known itself to do at other times. Stuck in its crescent form, its light is soft and dull. Lenore sits at the edge of her tower, her bare feet dangled over the edge. She stares at the moon with nothing shy of admiration.

"You are lonely." She whispers, her voice lost in the blowing wind.

"I can keep you company."

Standing back onto her feet, she peers at the vast land in front of her. Bits of rubble crumble away from the tower falling many feet down into the river's slope. The meadow on the other side of the river is vast and unmoving. Silhouettes of what appear to be deer can be spotted wandering through until the field ends, turning into overrun groves of trees. It is a plenty-filled forest that never ceases to be, its roots traveling underground for miles upon miles. Lenore steps off the top of her tower without a single thought. The cool air whipped her hair around sporadically, her silk shawl enveloping her. She grabs the drawstring, and with a slight pull, her cloak carries away with the wind. She smiles at the moon, the ground rushing even closer to her. She closes her eyes, concentrating on her form, on how she is light enough and small enough to fly. Her bones begin to feel tighter as they start to shrink upon themselves.

Opening her eyes to see she is staying in one place, floating. She can see her wings keeping her in the air by peering to the side. They flap soundlessly against the wind. A small smile plays on her lips. Her wings push down, pushing Lenore higher into the sky.

The moon shines from behind the spotted bits of clouds. Its crescent shape is like a lent ear to listen to her deepest desires on this night. This, she thinks, is bliss.

"I want only to be with Azra." She smiles. The wind is soft, blowing Lenore back toward her tower. It whispers to her.

He is there. He is waiting.

She can feel it in her once beating heart. Without hesitation, she flies back over the trees to her tower.

She lands softly back on her feet through the terraced window into her bodied form. Her silver hair falls to her waist, with her colorless eyes and a single fang protruding from her rose dust-colored lips.

Her double Victorian-style doors are wide open, exposing the descended spiral staircase. She rushes to the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

The smell of sandalwood hits her nose. At the bottom, she is met with nothing but a seemingly empty room.

"Azra and his pranks, I bet he is hiding in his usual spot," Lenore giggles before calling out. "Your scent is strong; you cannot fool me, my love."

The walls are dark except for the few sections illuminated by the perched burning torches. The rug beneath her feet is many centuries old now. Its color is flat and dull, rugged from age.

She heads towards the entry parlor. As she passes the mirror, she catches a glimpse of a reflection. Startled, she turns back to the mirror, the faintest gasp escaping her lips. The reflection is there again, but it is not hers. Where she stands, the mirror shows no one, but leaning against the wall, hidden in the shadows, that is where he stands.

"Azra, my darling!" Her smile was wide. "I was becoming worried you would not return home." He stands beside the candles; their flames flicker back and forth vigorously. She waits for his response, but he remains quiet, with a smile shifting from his previous grimace. Too long has she spent away from him; Lenore turns to embrace him.

The room remains quiet and bare. The only sound heard is that of Lenore. With her hand over her mouth, she chokes down her tears. An unpleasant sob escaped from her.

"Such a macabre recoalescence." She weeps as she falls to the floor.

She grabs a fallen picture that lays on the ground. Glass tinks together as she flips over the broken frame. It is cold and faded from the dust that has begun collecting.

Her lips quiver as she mournfully whispers:

"Till death do us part."