Fin

By Hymn Angelic

Slowly, he traced a thin finger around the words engraved in the cold, unforgiving stone. Christine. He had not wanted to believe it. But here was proof before his eyes, unrelenting and unquestionable. She was dead. His inspiration, his muse, his song. Cold and lifeless beneath the soil. And she had died never knowing.

Beloved Wife and Mother. Her life had been full, and hopefully happy. Had she truly forgotten him, as he had half wished she would? Pushed all thought of the terrible events that had occurred at the Opera Populaire, and of the madman who caused them from her mind? Somehow, he doubted it. He did not think of himself as forgettable. He had certainly not forgotten her.

Pressing the flower to his lips, he shut his eyes and inhaled the heady scent. One last rose for his little star. He lay it gently on the stone. He was returning the ring to her. It was a beautiful gift…one he did not deserve. In all the years since she had disappeared from his life, it had never left his person. It was time now. Time to let go. Let go of everything.

He straightened with some effort. It truly was over. The song that had played in his head since he had first spied her, so young and innocent. And beautiful. Always beautiful. Now, the music came to a close. Fin. The end. She was truly gone, wasn't she?

He smiled one last sad smile at the gravestone.

"Good night, Christine."

The thought that she was alive kept him living through each cold and empty day. The hope that he might spy her again, or hear her voice. To imagine her smiling and laughing. She would no longer laugh. Never sing. His life had no meaning.

He walked leisurely through the cemetery. He wore no coat, and the biting wind chilled him. But he ignored the cold. It meant nothing to him now. Reaching the gate at the opposite end of the land, he smiled at the frozen lake that greeted him. During spring, lovers sat next to it, picnicking and smiling lovers' smiles. Now it was deserted, barren and unloved.

He stepped gingerly out onto the ice. It cracked in protestation beneath his weight, and he slid further out. It continued to grumble as he progressed. He smiled to himself and began to sing softly, under his breath. The remnants of a melody long unsung.

As he sang, the ice cracked again, more violently and he felt himself lose his footing. He spread his arms wide and tilted his head back. He laughed as he sank into the icy waters.

Will you be there for me on the other side, Christine? He wondered, a gentle smile cementing itself on his quickly bluing face. His vision blurred and darkened. I hope so. Slowly, his eyes shut for the last time.

Fin. The end.