A lone raven perched upon the dead weeping willow. His eyes told my future, dark and decrepit, reflecting on myself. Next to the window was a tall dethorned rose. It was dark velvet red, sitting on a stained letter on my oak table. The scent of my lover’s cologne still tampered with the rain drying off his letter.



Dear Alexandra,




I will come for you in the middle of the night in exactly one fortnight. I await the temptation of your lips and fair dresses. Fear not the strange businesses going on in the darkness of our towns, spreading like an epidemic. They deal nothing that concerns people like us. Keep our candle lit through the nights, it shall last you far longer than your wait.








Yours Truly,








Elliot



I had lit our candle with a match from my drawer. Outside night had fell, it was pitch black out the window. To the rest of the town, one glowing light danced for the rest of the night.