Hello! First off, many apologies for not updating in many many months x.x I've recently found quite a few of these half-finished drabble files gathering cobwebs in this laptop of mine... that will hopefully be posted in a quick and consistent manner this time around. (As soon as I get to finishing them) :)
His mind played tricks on him.
He would sit there, in the dark, the candlelight flickering as he strummed his violin. It did not matter if he was on the floor, or sprawled across the settee with Morpheus or sleep beginning to tug him into unconsciousness.
He would see her, always.
Pale, as pale as a porcelain doll and that devilish smile upon her face.
He would reach out, and she would be gone.
He still played his violin during the quiet hours -and when he hit those special notes, sometimes he could hear her sing, her melody interweaving with his. He would stop, and the voice would be gone.
Though he could never admit it, never allow himself to feel, it tore him to pieces, knowing that all he craved for was a mere illusion.
And yet he continued to strum his violin.