"Dad, look! It's so pretty!"

  The reds and golds of the sun bled into the blue and purple hues of the evening sky, hanging halfway down the horizon as the child gazed at her father with her violet eyes, compelling him to look.

  "That's quite the sight. You know, buddy, Mom and I looked at a sunset just like that once. From then on, Mom and Dad became, well, Mom and Dad."

  "Was it pretty too?" The child picked out a cricket in the field before it jumped out of her palm back onto a stalk of wheat.

  "Yes, it was. It was the prettiest."

  "Let's take a picture for Mom!"

  "Good thinking, sweetie."

  The sun dove into the fields of wheat as Melton raised his camera to take a picture. With a shutter, the polaroid flapped between his fingers as the colours of the setting sun settled on the picture.

  "Ooh! Pretty!"

  "I think Mom will be happy with this one." Melton patted her jet black hair as she ran off back home.

  The door nudged open as daughter and father stepped through the door.

  "Mom! We're home!"

  "Welcome back, sweetie." Before Melton could step foot in the house, his daughter had already run off to the kitchen to show her mother the sunset they’d just seen.

  "Look, Mom! Look!"

  "Wow, that sure is pretty! Did you have fun out there?"

  "Mhm."

  "Let's go see the sunset together again next time, alright, hun?"

  "Yeah!"

  "Ah, welcome back, dear."

  Melton turned the corner.

  Elisabeth looked incredible with an apron on and ladle in her hands, yet a broken spear pierced her abdomen, blood soaking through every inch of fabric below the waist. The sweet dream had unveiled into a nightmare made just for him, like a jawbreaker turned sour. Melton blinked, and the farmhouse had transformed into the fallen remains of the Den of Sin. His eyes fluttered again, and this time Elisabeth laid lifeless in his arms, her limp hand in his and her final expression forever a frozen smile.

  And then the dream ended.

  "...Shoot, I'm gonna be late."

  Melton's day started off after a quick shower and breakfast. No coffee, it made him cranky.

  On top of the fireplace, the candle before her portrait lit as he clasped his hands and closed his eyes, speaking to a person who no longer remained. He lit incense in front of her as a joke once, but the red stalks snapped on every last stick of the bunch he bought.

  “Melton, what do you wanna be if you weren't an officer?”

  “Teaching sounds fun.”

  “Keep dreaming. You can hardly explain to me why this move makes sense but this doesn't!”

  “It just doesn't, alright? Quit complaining!”

  "Wish me luck, dear." Dressed in a black suit and tie with his hair slicked with gel, he headed off to the first item on the agenda for the day: A job interview.

  The young man had seen several different jobs over the past 3 years. First he was a warrant officer, but he quit shortly after. Then a barkeep, but he was no good. Then a personal security guard, but then his client died. Then he bounced around odd jobbing. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted to live, but it kept the lights on at home, so no complaints.

  Today was a chance to finally land a job greater than a dishwasher. Arnchester-Bowstead Academy was hiring new faculty staff, and he'd received an invitation for an interview. From the headmaster there, no less. Only a fool would've declined.

  Hopefully he didn't bomb the interview.

  "...We'll let you know if you've been selected to join us here at Arnchester-Bowstead."

  He bombed the interview.

  The theory and practical were no problem, but the teaching demonstration was a huge mess from start to end. Missing material, chalk flying everywhere; he even hit one of the judges square in the head with his pointer. At that point, he wanted nothing more than to dig a hole straight down and hide in it forever. He hiked his backpack as he prepared to leave for his next destination of the day.

  Don't you dare bring that sorry mood with you there.

  “A quick jog takes your mind off all your troubles. And it keeps you healthy.”

  “A quick jog to you is probably a sprinting pace to some others out there, you buffoon.”

  “Just because I run fast doesn't mean you have to, too. Look at you; you need exercise. Go get some sun in your life.”

  “But it's too hot…”

  “There you go making excuses again…”

  St. Monia's Cathedral came into view after a short jog from the academy, as Melton hopped the wall into the abandoned building.

  Dirt and fauna had reclaimed the halls of the cathedral as their own. On top of where the nave would be laid two graves, marked with two polished slabs of slate with not a single blemish or carving. One with a pair of polished steel gauntlets, the other with a book about ancient knights. He’d have to drop by the library in a month’s time to return this one for a new book. What else would she have been interested in reading?

  “Are these tales all you read?”

  “They’re good fun. I’m telling you, nothing’s greater than fiction in this world.”

  “You should give biographies a good shot. Life is stranger than fiction sometimes, you know?”

  “Read about some braggadocious old fart prideful enough to write their own biography? Blegh. No thanks.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Melton gave the two headstones a quick wipe with a cloth from his bag; it's a miracle the taps near the cathedral still worked, really. The man knelt before them. An offer of prayer, the same routine. Every month, without fail.

  "It's probably wise to go before the crowd hits,” Melton thought to himself as he rose to leave.

  "I'll be back soon. Promise."

  On the way to the festival, a block of plastic buzzed in his pocket. Ah, that new 'mobile phone' his brother got him last year. He flipped open the cover, putting the buzzing end to his ear.

  "Who is this?"

  "It's Zeke. It's not like you've got any other contact saved on here."

  "Who?" The festival goers and stall owners exclaiming and shouting at the top of their lungs drowned out the voice from the call, as Melton pushed the speaker harder against his ear.

  Then his eardrums almost blew out as Zeke bellowed into the mic on the other end: "It's Zeke, you idiot!!"

  "Alright, alright, I hear you! What's the deal?"

  "I just wanted to let you know Dad's gonna be visiting Mom's grave on Sunday. He’s asking if we're all going to be coming like last year."

  “Son. Do you regret ever being an officer?”

  “Never. Even if I quit after that first case.”

  “You sound like you have something to say to me, Melton.”

  “...Not really.”

  “Don’t lie, I can tell. I’m your father, after all.”

  “...I’m sorry about everything that I’ve done, not just these few months, but for everything. From that day till this very moment.”

  “You only apologise when you do something wrong, do you not?”

  “Yes?”

  “So what good is an apology now, Melton? You’ve yet to do anything wrong, my son?”

  "Tell him I’ll be there. Hey, I'll hang up for now, I've got a festival to attend."

  "Ahh, I haven't told you the location yet! Melt-"

  Melton shoved his phone into his pocket, muttering under his breath after he hung up the call, "It's the same carriage stand every time, you fool."

  “...I'm not stupid.”

  “I know you aren't. But you did something stupid, which makes you a fool.”

  “You--! Ow, what are you made of?”

  “Case in point.”

  “---! Stupid!”

  "Ah, sir! You've come again this year!"

  The old man running the fishing stall called out to Melton.

  "The lass isn't here this year as well. Did something happen?"

  A sizable pause hung in the air before he could answer, "...She's gone off far away to pursue her dreams. But I'll take the fish in her stead, if you don't mind."

  "Sure thing. I've always got more to give, y'know."

  "I've got to learn to keep one alive before I take more home, Gramps."

  “Have you ever kept a pet before?”

  “Once. Then I found out I'm terrible at keeping pets. Lenny the goldfish somehow didn't even last half a week.”

  “I bet I could keep Lenny alive for a month.”

  “...I'll be back with a goldfish next week. Let's see how long he lives under your care.”

  “Don't kill it before Saturday!”

  "Looks like the performance will be starting in about 5 minutes."

  "Ah, then I'll take my leave first then."

  Hands marred with scars parted the same hedge in that same part of the forest where the festival just about cut out for a brief moment. The bench and the view had remained the same, even after the course of 3 years.

  The backpack unzipped, the cap of the pen coming off with a ‘pop’. Fingers fiddled with the ring on his necklace as the nib sank and split, ink spilling into the pages of the notebook.

  Dear Elisabeth.

  How are you? I hope the books in the afterlife are still to your liking. But given how quickly you devour fantasy novels like a kid guzzles sugar, you've probably read all the books under the fiction shelf already. I just can't imagine you reading a biography, you'd probably fall asleep.

  I had to cut the visit to yours and Patricia's grave short since the festival just happened to coincide with today, so I hope you'll forgive me for that. The taps there still run, so your graves are still squeaky clean every month.

  I'm no longer a bodyguard since the guy who pays my salary went ahead and drank that glass of wine even though I told him not to, so I've had to go around looking for ad-hoc work where they'd give me something to do for a wage per hour. Not the best, in case you’re wondering. But today I went to interview for a teaching position at Arnchester-Bowstead Academy that produces lots of talented students every day. As much as I like to say I'm confident that I'll pass, I completely bombed the interview, so I probably will still be looking for a job to keep the lights on. Life's hard out here.

  I'll be going back to clean Mother's grave with Zeke and Father soon, but this time Zeke told me through this newfangled 'mobile phone' that just came out. Crazy expensive, but imagine if we had these. You'd yap about me about your most recent guests every other moment, I'd bet!

  The old man still gives me the fish to keep every year. The last one died about 6 months in, but I'm getting closer to a whole year. Maybe I should check if these fish can actually live a whole year...

  Elisabeth, not one moment goes by without me missing you around in this world. I still miss chatting with you about the most random things. I still miss playing board games with you. I’m learning how to brew tea from the maids back home, but it just doesn’t taste the same as when you make it and I still burn my tongue sometimes. But I'm learning, and it really is better hot, just like you said. It’s a little late to admit now, and I can’t believe I had the balls to even write this down, but at some point, I believed we had a real shot at a family together. At least, I did at some point. I never asked your opinions on that topic. God, even writing it on paper feels embarrassing…Don’t laugh, you idiot.

  …Sometimes I wish that things could've been different. If I had known sooner about your plight, maybe I could've done something to make sure you could stay by my side as I write this letter today, staring off into the same sunset as when I confessed three years ago. Geez, it's been three years already. Can you believe it?

  I still see you in my dreams sometimes. My heart still breaks whenever my dreams show me a future I can never have, dangling it in front of me just to snatch it away as I wake for the day, and I can’t find it within myself to smile, at least for the day. The same six months still replay in my head at times, even as the years pass. But hopefully one day, there comes a point where I can give you a smile from the bottom of my heart when you surface in my dreams once again.

  I've only got so much paper to write on, so to end off, I'd like to say: I miss you. I still do. But I'll try to keep a smile on my face as I keep moving forward, just like you always did.

  So, until I meet you again.

  Melton Tasselt.

  An airplane made of the handwritten note flew off into the horizon as the festivities began. Maybe one day, it’d reach her far beyond.

  "I get it now, it really does look kind of weird, huh… Time to get going; I'm starving out here." Melton dusted off the rest of his suit, ready to leave for the day.

  "...Until next time, Elisabeth."

  Then, a voice like glass chimes in the wind whispered in his ear.

  "Take care, Melton."

  He knew she was long gone. Yet his heart still pounded, expecting to meet those eyes of brilliant purple staring back at him. His neck snapped around in an instant, but his eyes met only the bench where they once sat. The dull, droning pain that still lingered in his heart throbbed once again, like a poltergeist shredding a room to bits.

  The smile on his face almost faded into an unspeakable expression. A step away from sorrow, just like in the morning.

  Yet his face still managed to keep its crescent.

  Just in case she was listening…

  "I will. Thank you, Elisabeth."

  “How sweet of you…”

  FIN