Disclaimer: I do not own anything that associates with The Pirates of the Caribbean: the Curse of the Black Pearl
Melody of His Angel
Araminta Ditch
The sad, mournful tune echoed through the hallways of the empty house; the splendidly sorrowful notes filling each room with their despondent harmony. This song was woeful. Each piano-stricken note rung with despair and the stench of grief was ever present. And yet, to him, the soft melody was a comfort. He lay there on the bed, drowning in the sickeningly sweet air the music carried to him. Blank eyes stared at the ceiling as the music pounded through his head. He was dreaming.
You didn't have to be asleep in order to dream. He knew this best of all, as dreams came and went as they pleased. Though in every dream, she was always the same. She was always the perfect angel he knew her to be. She was always there.
This dream was no different.
There she was… his angel shrouded in white. Her skin and hair were shining with the silvery moonlight as her white gown contrasted against the darkness of the room and the deep black of the piano.
He looked upon this vision and he was contented. So it had been his angel who was playing the melody. The song was no longer a figment of his imagination, as in other dreams where he would endlessly search for its source, groping onto his last thread of sanity.
Amber eyes looked up through thick lashes, and a small smile was passed his way as his angel kept playing. He returned the smile, and soon found his feet bringing him closer to his love.
He seated himself beside the woman who seemed so magical in this light. His fingers pressed against hers, and she guided his hands across the smooth ivory, the melody not changing, but the sorrowful edge now gone. Everything full of despair was replaced with love and passion… the passion that this man felt for his angel.
His hands left hers. Fingers traced her arms up to her shoulders, and then ran the length of her smooth neck. She turned her head and his lips met hers tenderly.
They had stopped playing the music, but the song never stopped. The soft, simple notes grew, and as the lovers' passion ignited, so did the song's. The once uncomplicated harmony was now an intricate entanglement of notes, each falling into place perfectly.
He broke his lips away from hers just for a moment, but long enough for his flushed angel to regain her breath.
This time she pressed their faces together. Her lips barely brushed his as his smoldering eyes searched her face and his hand cupped her cheek. The kiss was deepened once again, and with a flourish, the man gathered his angel in white into his arms and lifted her off of the bench. Her arms found their way around his neck as her fingers entangled themselves into his hair. The man carried his angel up to their room, where he gently laid her down onto the soft blankets.
They held each other throughout the night, their cries and soft whispers mingling with the melody that had become the song of their love. And even later, when the moon had fallen and the sun had just begun to rise over in the east, they held each other close. The song had gone back to its original phase. His angel was no longer bathed in the silvery milk-light of the moon, and the flowing white gown had long since been forgotten and was discarded on the floor. But she was no less his angel.
He tightened his hold around her naked midriff as she began to stir. Her eyes fluttered, and she immediately greeted him with a smile.
"Good morning, Angel."
He was answered by a tender kiss on his lips.
And the music never stopped.