Apparitions By Moonlight

Hurry, they'll be there soon. I don't want you to miss them.

"Did I mention I love you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I- You did hear me, then?"

"Yes, I heard you."

A battle was held here once, you know.

"And will you find me? When you come back from... from where you're going?"

"Yes- No-" Exasperation. "Look, it's over. It's already over. Why can't you see that?"

The castle, a school it was then, was held siege for 40 days and nights. Dragons unleashed fire from above, as windows were barricaded to the army outside. Towers fell, children cried, curses were howled at their foes - well, so the history books say, at least. I don't know, of course; the story has long since degenerated into legend and myth. Now only these gardens remain, and the ruins of the castle stand quiet and forgotten.

But there are those still here who could tell the truth. If only one would remember, if only the other would speak to us.

"But...." A stunned pause. "What do you mean 'it's over'? You can't do this; didn't you hear me? I said I-"

"I know," soothing, but threaded with frustration, "I know, love. But, listen to me, listen! It's all already over."

Can you hear the streams, with water so pure and clear, as they trickle gently down their trails to the lake below? See the hidden and overgrown paths shaded by trees and soaked with the smell of oak, ash and sycamore - does the scent pervade your senses, as it does mine? Take care now, my dear, on these worn stone steps, leading us from water's edge to the castle above. And do you see the bright full moon watching through leaves overhead?

A murmur, "I don't understand..." gives way to anger. "How can you say we're over? Is this some stupid bloody way of trying to protect me? Because you needn't bother, for God's sake, it's far too late for that! You're coming back, do you hear me? And after you do-"

Quietly, "There was no after."

"What the hell are you talking about?" An outburst bred from deep rooted confusion. "There was, there is, agh, there will be an after! After this battle, after the war, you and I, we'll have our future! Don't you dare give up now, do you hear me, or I'll kill you myself! You'll come back, and we'll make it through!"

Hush now, we're here, watch. The scuffed grey shoes - 'trainers', they were called - that move slowly down the stone staircase, do you see them? Do you see the boy wearing them? He pauses now, look, and glances back - a study in monochrome as though God himself put aside his palette for charcoal and ink, wouldn't you agree, dear?

But hush, he speaks; hear how quiet his voice is.

"But I didn't.... And we didn't."

And now look; over yonder beneath that oak, standing in the shadow of its branches, do you see his companion? Peer through the darkness now; see the hesitation on that face, as confusion yields to comprehension.

"Wh-? Why are you speaking as though this has already happened?"

The path down to the jetty, the path they stand on now, was used during the great war that tore down the towers. And, you see, it was by moonlight that those who would be victorious began their journey over the lake to steal into the enemy's camp. That night, so says legend, lives were lost over the water, and the hearts of those left behind were broken. But, those shattered people who remained here, the stories claim that some of them refused to live without their love for long.

So see him, that boy in strange shoes whose name time has forgotten, see him sob. He'll murmur now, like he always does, "God, please," and can you see him breathe deeply, as though he needs it, as though his body still craves air?

"Because it has already happened, love. Why can't you remember?"

Did you hear him? Isn't it sad? It's only by the light of the full moon, you see, that these ghosts come out to play, to have this same conversation over and over. One remembers, the other refuses to, always living in the past whilst clinging to dreams of a future they never had.

Do you see them, my dear? Aren't they handsome together, standing in the moonlight?

fin