Chapter Text
“See! On yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore
Come! Let the burial rite be read—the funeral song be sung—
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young
A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.”
“Lenore” By Edgar Allen Poe
You suppose it was for the best that you would not attend the funeral. Could not, that would be more accurate.
But take it as a blessing, you’d rather wear clothes of the living being united in matrimony than the clothing of which shows those who have been cured of the ailment we call life.
A fire, it was. An accident. A preventable accident no less, that killed your flickering light in this dark world.
Perhaps if the fire wasn’t so close the ether, it wouldn’t have spread so far. If she has not been in the attic, maybe she could have escaped through the door. If it had rained even half as much as the sky pours right now, the droplets would have eased the fire out of it’s aggression.
You had wished her father shown a semblance of sympathy, or even a fraction of honestly in her demise. You remember, hardly a weeks time before, when the servant came in with the news. That your dear friend was killed in a house aflame.
You wonder how she must have felt in that moment. A woman as helplessly hysterical as her, one with such a hip injury surely couldn’t have gotten fast enough to safety.
‘No, this is a good thing,’ you thought, reciting the words your parents have told you nearly every second from that day. ‘A spinster such as her would only serve to badly influence me, I am now rid of that barren woman’ Maybe deep down you even agree with them. “Don’t let her words plant spores in you, she already basically has killed from her own family tree”
Even if only in your head, those words…they didn’t feel right. They incinerated you from the inside out, charring your heart which you had to blacken yet harden as to not break out in tears every second you spent from that faithful day.
An echoing boom nearly jolts you out of the comfort of your bed. Well, not your bed per se, your wife-to-be’s house’s guestroom. It was smaller than your usual tastes, but the colours were soothing.
The room despite being bathed in a near monochrome tint from the downpour beyond the open curtains, was comforting. Your sheet, while mainly white, has a floral black and red embroidery in them which went well with the matching red and black décor of the room. The only thing that stood out was the silken curtains.
You were fond of purple, but it didn’t go well with the rest of the room. There wasn’t anything wrong with them, they were clean with some golden touches near it’s edges, but seeing this odd hue next to the rest of the rather orderly room made your head spin.
You didn’t like how it stuck out; it was a blemish on what should be a decent room. But that’s how the worst imperfections work after all.
They are never the most obvious, no. They always just have to be those details in the wrong place. Like a bouquet missing a flower, or perhaps asymmetrical twin moles, the dark mark on the left being just a few centimetres lower from where the right’s should be, made all the more apparent by it’s owner’s pale….
Another round of lightning cackling like witches drew you out of your trail of thought.
White looks nice on you, far better than black ever did. But with black clothing, you can’t see the stains. Not even those from tears.
Soon, the rain has a partner in it’s droplet’s decent. The water from your eyes trickling down your cheeks and yet you clench your jaw a sign of how you tried not to sob. The rain must’ve been pouring even harder now, as you heard a distinct tapping on your window, although by then you have more that buried your face into your pillow, your sobs reaching it’s crescendo.
Future groom, of why ever do you weep? This is the eve of your wedding, your tears should be that of happiness and love!
But you suppose they are of your love.
Not love to your husband, no
Much rather, love to if ever
To the dearest, the Late
Lenore
But of all time
It is better now, than ever
For tomorrow you can shed tears never again
And you shall weep now or never more
------
You know none of these guests. But they attend to your wedding. You’re clothed in only the finest of suits, custom tailored (as many clothes were at the time) for a man of your stature.
A chill in the air brings you back to your senses. A December’s nuptial was to be done on this very day. You sadly didn’t even have the dignity of getting snow, in it’s stead was a storm brewing. The dark clouds didn’t fit the occasion, but as many do say:
“Have your heart broken on a day of downcast, never on that of brilliance”
You doubt it’s an actual saying, but you had overheard a friend of yours say it to a younger sibling on the day her pet died, and you trusted him more than anything, so why pretend you don’t believe it.
You’re all the more reminded of him as you hear a violinist playing. But it wasn’t all in all that good of a solo. If you had it your way, the violin would be accompanied by a piano.
A thought passes of this union between you and your promised. How you pray and hope that eventually, a love may plant it’s seed and at once blossom into something beautiful between you two.
As you peer from behind a curtain at the guests, you understand her now. A troubling thought really.
You understand her lack of interest in a suitor. She may have been a gamophobe, but seeing these people here for a joined ceremony of affection that is more than absent is….is sickening, as though electricity runs through your veins, vaporizing all from within and leaving only a husk.
A flash from outside the window tells you that the storm has come in full (as if you couldn’t hear it). But as it does, you see a glint of bright red in the small crowd.
A debonair man sits in a seat and while technically being in the middle, there is a lack of people in front of him, rendering him clear to your scrutiny. As you look at his clothing you must stop yourself from recoiling.
He wasn’t dressed ugly per se, white dress shirt, red vest, gloves and tie. A black coat over it with golden trimmings, paired with the black dress pants would under normal circumstances but an alright combination.
It was the flower, the yellow peony. It looked newly cut, a pastel mistake amongst a decent outfit yet not wedding appropriate attire. A disease such things as this were, truly.
You looked up at this person, and what you see…….
The afterlife has always been an odd concept. Who is to say if there is a heaven, a hell, or something in between. What you do know of course, is that there is no such thing as the dead being brought back to life, much less when you attended the young man’s funeral. But as you look at those features, a too close resemblance to your late friend, Theo.
This man- this man who looks far too much like Theo, he must have had a good eye, because almost as quickly as you spotted him, so did he. He walked towards you, with what looked like wat would have been a limp if not for the silver cane in his hand.
How have the other guests not noticed a stranger among them? But most if not all of them you yourself did not recognize. Their odd chatter was loud enough the footsteps of the man couldn’t be heard.
As the man stood before you, his slender arm reaches out and his right hand clumsily takes your own and places a light kiss to your knuckles.
You step back. And back. And back until you are at the second entrance to the building.
Piercing blue eyes stare at you, but now that you have a closer look, you think less if looking at Theo No, this man’s face was far too soft and his black and white hair was straight. Under both eyes he had moles….
You don’t even stop yourself from collapsing into her arms in which would look like a deep embrace to anyone unaware of your shock. Her warm, thin arms in turn wrap around you, no care for the pristine ivory white you wear at this moment.
“You scoundrel! Embracing a stranger on your wedding day, so casually as well, how absurd.”
Her impression of a masculine sounding voice was immaculate. It still had a slight rasp carried over from her regular voice but with an added charm you haven’t seen from her in a long time. Although, you still found yourself wishing for her to talk normally. If not for knowing her previously, you would assume she a man just like any other.
“You’re…..You’re alive…I thought, Do you know how much I missed you? Ever since the wallpaper incident-I’m so….”
She takes her hand touches, nearly ruffling your hair. It’s more playful, if anything.
“You really did miss me, huh” you almost miss the slightest hint of affection in her mischievous tone. Mischief? Is that what this is?
But only then do you see something upon her face. A smile. It wasn’t big, but it was there. Once gain you practically melt into her arms, finding comfort in the feeling of embracing your friend once more.
Soon, you two had to separate with one another.
Without her warmth, you are reminded of the dreary cold atmosphere.
“Why. And how? How are you here?”
You wish you had just kept quiet as her smile has once again faded into nothing but an all too familiar black expression.
“Doesn’t matter. Hasn’t mattered since my old man stuffed me in a closet for two years. The air so musty that it almost felt as though that fire’s smoke was easier to breathe in.”
“Not matter? I-I mourned for you! And don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding my question.”
“I simply got out of the building before it fully burnt down. Now if you’re thinking ‘Lenore, however could you commit such a crime’ don’t bother, and I’ll have you know I plan to commit another today.”
“Excuse me?” You could tell she was joking. You hoped she was joking, but that wasn’t what cause the fearful glint in your eye.
“You see darling, I have come to your esteemed wedding” Lenore leans in a bit closer to you, her fly aways framing her face and ghosting over yours.
You try averting her gaze, your eyes fall back on the yellow peony in her jacket, now slightly smushed from your hug. Suppose that’s how flowers worked. You can’t help it once it has been cut from the stem, no matter how much you may try.
“To steal you.”
“Lenore…..what, have you gone mad?” You don’t want the answer to that. “I am to be wed today. I have my whole life ahead of me” The idea perplexed you and you couldn’t help but wonder wherever did that idea first take root in her.
“Don’t lie like that. Your whole life ahead of you? Now this, where it just gets worse. It may not end like mine would, but the consequences would be far from positive.”
You don’t want to answer her, you shouldn’t.
“Well you wouldn’t exactly know much of that, would you? You’re a barren spinster, Lenore. You cowered at the mere thought of marriage, and where did that get you? A broken hip?-” You stop yourself. You know for a fact you shouldn’t bring that up. Not here, not ever.
“Don’t” A stern look from her shuts you up despite your apparent lack of speech. But with how angry she’s looking at you…
“Look, do you honestly want this marriage? You of all people?”
“How do you know I don’t want it?”
“Most grooms don’t cry into a pillow for several hours before their big day. At least not like you did.”
“Pay no mind to that! And what exactly do you mean by ‘steal me’? You think no one would notice the groom being gone from his own wedding? And what of my family, you think I can just leave them?”
“I know this may be unpleasant but understand that for you to unclip your wings….” She leans a bit more on her untarnished cane, lowering herself slightly.
“You have to make sacrifices, and for you, darling”
A quick breath is drawn. By whom? you can’t tell.
“I don’t care about the consequences, right now, and to be quite frank for the past few months, right now, I only care about you.”
“Now why are talking like that. The Lenore I knew hardly cared for such…Romanticism in her words.”
“Well, it’s hard not too when you’ve gotten your heart broken just a few days ago.”
As you let out a sigh, you can’t be bothered to hide the amusement in your exhale.
“I can’t tell if you’re simply that charming or I’m perhaps easily charmed.” If only for an instant, a smile blesses the room. Not beaming or dazzling to any degree, but it’s a smile. ‘What are you doing?’
Biting your inner cheek and you step away from her. ‘How could you let yourself consider it? You don’t want to, but if the animal refuse to stop it’s squawking, it must be put down’
“But still, no. In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all.” ‘Why should I go?’ “You can have your ‘freedom’ all you want.” ‘She wants me…to go with her’ “But some of us actually have a life worth living,” ‘A bad, bad influence’ “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding, a promise to honour and if you dare-” ‘Freedom isn’t worth it’ “I doubt you want to ruin even more people’s lives, or worse,” ‘But maybe, just maybe’
“End them.” ‘She is.’
In a haze of black and a flash lightning, you find yourself wrapped once more in this woman’s grasp like ivy tangling all around you. ‘When did she get this strong?’
With unyielding determination, she drags you outside. The rain has hardly subsided and by the look of the sky’s dark grey, clearly the worst is yet to come.
You peer down at the mud now partially staining the platinum silk of your gown, the Earth’s very being does not seem to agree to your own garments of matrimony.
You are then lifted and thrusted upon a silver horse. You struggle to get off but before your efforts bear any fruit, the woman has already taken her place onto the horse.
A sudden roar in the distance is enough to frighten the horse into a vigorous gallop. The sheer speed of it proved to be far too great for you to simply jump off, let alone in this dress of yours.
You feel yourself slipping, whether this be off the horse or your sanity, you are unable to tell. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around the nearest thing to you, not wanting to be did in by a mere fall.
Infront of you, you can feel her shoulders relax and her posture unstraightens itself, although that may be due to her avoiding the clouds’ bullets from entering her eyes. But a part of you almost hopes it because of the two arms draped in white around her waist.
The storm seems to worsen, the sky becoming such a dark melancholy you doubt it would ever end. The thunder in the distance deafens your please to the woman in front of you to turn back.
You can hardly see, except for when the sky graces you with distance yet short lived moments of light which threatens to blind if they continued on for more than an instant. A stillness.
“You know why I did this, right?”
“…”
“Please. You’re the only good thing left. The only thing that makes me feel human anymore. The only thing that makes me sane. She may have left me, but you? You’re still here.”
“If this is how you act when you’re being ‘sane’, I dread to think how you act when you don’t-”
“Empty. Like every day is the same. Practically drowning in florals, it’s horrible! Like there are vines that shroud my entire body. I will admit, I first sought comfort in my Love, but she…she refused my proposal. I’m not letting my friend do the same to me.”
A feeling more bitter than the worse of medicine causes you to choke out the next words to come out of your mouth.
“You weren’t worth my tears.”
“Do you not understand? I tried getting you away from here sooner, yesterday night in fact, but I couldn't get your attention, but now” She can only slightly turn her head back at me. Her gaze, that sincere look in her eye, you hoped it only sort to deceive you, because if not….. You fear you may be under this songbird’s plea.
“Is it not strange, the things people do for love?” An inhale is unable to be taken into you as she says those words. A tingle in your skin proves to be a distraction.
Love
“ I may have not been able to marry the one I Love, but you? You could get a second chance. People should be willing to do anything for love, of any kind. Whether it be lying to those around them, stealing or setting a building alight. I’ve said it once, and by the devil I meant it: I will sacrifice, anything I have for you and you alone.”
“You….It was…insane. You’re insane.” Just as quickly as you spat out those words, you bite your tongue to stop and you feel a metallic taste in your mouth, but you didn’t bite your tongue hard?
“You…you’re just saying that to wound me, but I cannot ignore these feelings for you. If I did, I would exceed maddening.”
You look her in the face. The rain has damped her hair so much so her hair is completely down, save for a few strands that continue to stand on their end. Her pale skin looks sickly and combined with her thin frame you dread to think just how well the doctors must have ‘treated’ her.
Sacrifice.
You didn’t have to stop visiting her. You could have continued; your parents may disapprove but it’s not as though they’d shun you for it.
Your eyes briefly fell on her lips. They were a slight blue.
You look at her eyes. She isn’t looking at you, but the pale blue would draw you in had the circumstances been different. Trailing down, you see her moles.
The one on the left is slightly lower than the other, no more than an inch. But you suppose she always was like that, even before the storm. So close to being perfect but this one detail, this one flaw would always serve to make her nigh unsatisfactory.
A mixture of mostly black yet with hints of white began to stand up on her head. You nearly missed a faint cackling noise due to the roars of thunder which seem so close.
“I love you.”
It seemed as though the storm stopped for just a moment. A moment to allow you both to swallow the feathery lumps of silence down your throat. You doubt either of you breathed but even if you had, the silence was more than enough.
“Please. Please can we go back,” You lifted a hand to grip onto her shoulder, creasing her black jacket. The horse suddenly stops, pushing you forwards. Your hand accidentally lowers itself closer to her waist. There on her side you feel something hard underneath her jacket pocket, almost like metal. It crackles faintly.
“I love you!”
“Lenore-”
You didn’t even have time to scream, neither of you. You want to think you may have passed out but the smell of burnt flesh still what you assume is sizzling reminded you of your yet be cured of life. A loud ringing in your ears disorientates you, but when you open your eyes, the vertigo is strong enough to make you nauseous
You try, lethargically, lifting yourself up. Feeling the cold damp beneath you, even more mud staining your dress. You looked up to see your capture.
The sight is more pathetic than your own, it lays right ahead of you. Sprawled out in the mud, her clothing was almost in poor a state as yours. Her hair seared and chest heaving from the shock. Her eyes were wide open yet unfocused.
You think you were crying, but the only true indicator was the warm liquid streaming down your cheeks. Easily could be mistaken for blood.
You hate to say it, but in this very moment, the moment you saw the lightning strike yet again, illuminating just enough to catch a glimpse of a gun, you gave into a hopeless revelation.
It wasn’t your friend, not for a long, long time. See, Lenore didn’t die today.
Not when you spotted the gun just a few feet away and took it, the static within it shocking you to the point it became hard to breathe.
Not when your shaking hands had clutched the trigger in such a way it snapped this soon to be doubly dead madwoman out of it’s trance.
Not even when you had shut your eyes, not wanting to see her mouth out your name. Not wanting to see the life drain out of her. The life upon her raven hair but not within her eyes.
No, your dear Lenore died on the day she was stupid enough to lead her loved one into a storm and got them both killed.
Because, feeling your lungs slow and your harsh decent to the ground, wheezing you think? You don’t want you last thoughts on this damned Earth to be that in your unkindness.
You did to dead your friend, your love that has now as you realize, has died.