I hear their voices in the middle of the night; gentle and full of love, eerie and enchanting.
Sometimes waking me up from a deep sleep and other times like a lullaby, sending me deeper into my sleep.
They inhabit this house I now call home, where their young lives had been cut short by the evil hands of a killer on a cold winter night many years ago; but even death could not break the love they had for each other.
Often, in the wee hours of the morning when my dreams get intense and shake me out of my sleep, I go downstairs to get a cup of tea and the scene in the kitchen is always the same.
They both stand there weeping with their eyes tightly shut and he holds her close, her face buried in his chest, her body trembling with fear.
A replay of the night they last lived.
I stand in awe of a love that even death could not break and I silently hope that at least, in life such love will find me.
Just before the sun comes out, all their tears seem to dry up and their faces although pale, glow with pure joy as they discuss.
Sadly, in a matter of minutes, they flicker out, invisible to my mortal eyes.
Even as the day rolls away to make way for the night, where they’ll exist to me again; I still feel them around the house.
I feel the power of their true love, maybe that’s why I never really feel lonely even though I’m alone.
@tashastarfire(IG), Anne-marie Sharp(Fb)