发信人: evilangelakasha(丽蒂雅)
整理人: fredrink(2001-02-05 13:34:14), 站内信件
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My name is Katina.
I live in a luxuriously decorated house after my husband's
death. From then I become utterly silent.
He comes through the darkest of nights, The violinist,
who plays under my window every night. The music of his
haunts me in my dreams, penetrates my heart, and touches
the most clandestine yet tender part of me.
He wants to tell me something, something about this
house which has been weary and dreadful for decades.
There is deadly trace in the air. I do not know its
history, treasures and secrets that have been buried
under the basement.
They may have been there for hundreds of years.
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I was born in the presence of darkness. It companioned me
through my whole life. My mother told me that was because
of my father. He used to belong to his god and his tribe,
but never her. I had never seen him or his pictures. He was
not of this world or another. He was the man who sacrificed
for his tribe. He died on the altar before his god, who
thirsted for blood, for life, and for so many things that
I could not comprehend.
My father, he is in this story. But let me get back to
where I started.
The violinist, he had a face of a man and the expression
of a child. The burning desire in his eyes told me that
he was isolated from the rest of the world, and that he
wanted something from me.
Which is…?
I pulled my door open. The shadow projected to the wall
of my house, lonely, yes, utterly lonely.
"What are you waiting for if you truly want something of
me?" I asked him from a distance.
Slowly, he turned to me: "but it's not a selfish conduct."
Smile: "then?"
He sighed silently.
The walls built upon the boundaries of my heart shattered,
falling apart with this heartbroken sigh.
He leaned forward, carefully placed his hands on his violin,
and began to tell this story.
She died when she was 19, murdered by Countess Ophelia. Her
blood was drained to the last drop, then become the elixir
that keeps the countess forever young.
And her soul was trapped under the castle, for four hundred
years.
He used to play for the countess. For him, music was nothing
more than the flowing brilliance and the sound of heart, though
tempting as the countess was, was created for his love the one
and the only.
Her name was Angel.
"For four hundred year I couldn't help her, I can wait no more."
He looked weary and bitter, "but I cannot lift the evil that
befell her."
His eyes fixed in front of him. He was not human, merely a
ghost of time, would soon disappear if faith was to collapse.
I wanted to say something, but my word was swallowed before
I could say them.
It was love that made him possible; it was separation that
made him suffer.
"Do you ever think of revenge?" I asked.
"For killing her? Its 400 years ago."
"But you suffered, didn't you? 400 year is too long for a
burden like that."
"The dead does not remain. When I want to look back, I don't
even know where to start."
"Then, why are you here?"
"The evil." He looked at me straight into my eyes, "I want her
soul to be with me, not under the cold, dark castle."
to be continued
aahh i started too many of this junk. none of them is finished. |
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