• She loved the colors that were painted in the surroundings.
    The melancholy blacks, the pure, stainless white which vieled the gloomy city in it's cold blanket of security.
    Her coffin was the same color as her eyes: a deep, unforgettable brown which could pierce even the inkiest of nights.
    Her white satin dress laid close to her body, as my body had once been close to hers.
    Now I see these colors, but distorted, and elongated to new, monstrous heights.
    Those black eyes. No longer do they harbor a glittering feeling of joyous uptaking, but now are filled with somber apathy.
    I hate these thoughts. They haunt me so.

    The darkening twilight masks the great being that dwells inside me.
    This being is a terrifying thing, with no definite shape or size.
    And yet, he makes me think about her, every single moment of every single day, of the rest of my life.
    The house. The blood. The funeral.
    I hate this beast. He haunts me so.

    I notice that the neighborhood in which we lived no longer carried a vibrant tone within it's walls.
    The once bright, sunny village has now deterioated into a mutant being, a figure that is shriveling, aging, dying.
    Like a wild beast, handicapped by humans, and yet can do nothing to fend for himself.
    The people seem to be a reflection of my past, present, and future turmoil.
    They carry the same stance as I do, the same walk, and the same look.
    I think the beast has taken over them also. But how could they?
    They never loved her. Not like I did.
    I hate these people. They haunt me so.

    Chimes. It's been a while since I've heard the ringing of chimes.
    The last time was when she died.
    And I feel as though another death is approaching soon.
    The chimes, they get louder, and louder, yet I feel no blowing wind.
    Am I going mad?
    Was I always mad?
    These people...this place...the chimes, are they all just my imagination?
    Was she...my imagination?
    These thoughts. They haunt me so.

    I was curious, to say the least.
    I was too wrapped up in her, to fully live my life in the present.
    In my search to find whether my reality was in fact reality,
    I took a knife, and started cutting.
    Where?
    On my arm.
    On my leg.
    On my face.
    I fell on the floor, bleeding, dying, breathing.
    I thought about who was watching me from above.
    Was it the beast?
    He was mocking me. Watching me bleed as I watched her bleed.
    The chimes...they play a twilight sonata for me.
    And now, they no longer haunt me so...