Photo by Sue Vincent
I dream of open spaces and sunlight. I dream of freedom. I dream of adventure and romance.
I dream of her.
This transition has not been easy. I was always a wild one, forever on the move, forever starting a new adventure. To be locked away with no hope of escape doesn’t suit my nature.
And the cruelty of it all! Just across that small courtyard that I can glimpse through an opening that I can never pass pass, just there, always in sight but forever out of reach, is where she is.
If only I could see her one last time, catch a glimpse of her smile. If only I could hear her melodious voice one last time, I’d be content to settle here forever in my personal prison. But no! She is kept just out of reach.
It was a dark night. We had a rendezvous and she was late. Impatient, I went to her abode to find her, to find why she hadn’t met me as promised. Stupid, yes, but I was young and in love.
I thought I had entered the gatehouse unobserved. I thought I had been sly. I thought I had been crafty. But he had been craftier, that jealous husband. He was waiting as patiently as I was impatient. He would catch me.
Before I knew he was there, my throat was slit with the same knife that had taken her life.
I dream of open spaces and sunlight. I dream of freedom. I dream of adventure and romance. I dream of her.
Although 300 years have passed, the transition from living to dead, from physical body to ghost, has not been an easy one.
Written for Sue Vincent‘s #writephoto challenge. This weeks challenge, Transition, is here.