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Charlie tucked his violin under his chin, the sweet notes of a melody flowing from the instrument. His talented fingers moved the bow up and down the strings, ignoring the pain from the blisters on his hands.
The bamboo trail, a path surrounded by tall bamboo shoots, had been their special place. They had sat at the side of it for hours, the sunlight beaming through the gaps and haloing Charlie with his violin. Nigel had always been perfectly content to just sit there and listen.
The bamboo trail, now a desolate memory of the love he had lost. The blood on his hands as that terrible, drunk driver had been unable to keep to the trail. His lover's screams as the car crashed into them.
Ever since the accident, Charlie had been more alone than ever. No one seemed to notice or want to talk to him. He would say hi or ask a question, and it would go unreplied. Sometimes his sister cried, and he didn't know why. Nothing he said seemed to be able to comfort her. She never knew Nigel, so who or what could she be crying for?
Every evening, as twilight shone down on the lonely bamboo trail, Charlie had brought his violin there to play. Sometimes a symphony, sometimes a concerto, sometimes a melody that he had made up on the spot.
"Nigel? Are you there? Can you hear me?" he would call. When there was no reply, he would play, in hopes that his dead lover's ghost would be able to hear him.
Charlie let the music carry him away, trying to pretend that everything was alright. That he was merely playing for Nigel on one of their picnics, sitting on the emerald-green grass by the side of the bamboo trail, a chequered blanket spread out beneath them.
However, he would soon be roughly shaken out of his fantasy when his lover never replied, not even a phantom whisper.
Charlie felt the tears spill down his cheek and splash onto his instrument. If he kept on crying when he played, he would have to get a new violin as the wood would rot away from his tears. He didn't care. He wanted the instrument to erode, to break as his heart had, to shatter like his dreams of a future with his lover.
His calloused, throbbing fingers moved up and down the strings. The tune grew more sad; a plaintive, heartwrenching melody crying out for inner peace and the resurrection of a lost love.
Charlie felt his body moving gracefully to the music, swaying back and forth. Nigel had always said that he danced like a leaf in the wind; beautiful, whispery, elegant. He did not dance like a leaf in the wind. He danced like his music.
"I'm here. I'm here, Nigel," he cried out desperately. The wind blew through the bamboo shoots, rustling their thick stalks. That was his only reply, not even a phantom whisper more.
The darkness reached out to him, clouding his mind. The shadows on the walls of bamboo elongated, turning into monsters with sharp teeth and deadly claws. Beckoning him to give in, beckoning him to join them.
He refused, continuing to play, the violin strings a high tremour, vibrating melodies through his entire being. The shadows stretched their claws out to him, trying to grasp the tears that freely rolled down his ruddy face.
Charlie twisted out of their grip, wondering why the shadows kept coming to attack him on the bamboo trail. The only thing that protected him was the sweet tunes of his violin, and even that was failing him.
His playing grew more steady, but the monsters became stronger day by day. This time, they snapped at him with their pointed teeth, grinning wildly. Images flashed in their soulless, dark eyes.
Charlie finally understood. The shadow creatures were made of his dreams, of the nightmares of his dead lover. Of the memories that he refused to let go of. His hand wavered, the violin slipping from under his chin.
He fell to his knees, his violin and bow hanging limply in each hand. The darkness closed in. The sharp flash of talons and canines grew closer as the shadows came to attack their prey.
Charlie took a deep breath. He prepared himself to be ripped apart by their claws.
Then a phantom whisper, drifting over the wind. "Don't give up," it said.
Charlie let out a tearful sob. Slowly, oh so slowly, he raised his violin to his chin once more. A high, wavering melody floated from the instrument. The song he had played the night Nigel died. The last tune his lover had ever heard.
It started out nervous, a visible tremour in it; but still the monsters drew back in confusion. The melody grew stronger, more confident. Charlie and his violin became one, playing for a phantom lover on a twilight-lit bamboo trail.
The shadow creatures howled in frustration, covering their ears. They shrank back as the music flowed into their bodies, trembling to the very core of their shadowy forms.
As the monsters receded, a ghostly phantom stepped from between the bamboo shoots, his halo of blonde hair framing his beautiful face. He looked just as he had before the accident; only his body was more transparent, his face more luminous.
"Charlie." His voice was a whisper of summer breeze, warm and gentle.
Charlie choked on a sob. "Nigel. You're back."
"Come with me, Charlie," Nigel cooed, beckoning to him.
"I....I can't.....you need to come back......everyone ignores me nowadays....I miss you......"
Nigel's eyes filled with sadness. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. They don't have amything against you. It's just that......you're dead."
"No! I'm not! I can't be!" Charlie yelled, the shadow creatures screaming alongside him.
"Charlie. You have to just let go and accept it. Remember."
Charlie felt his violin turn to ash in his hands, blowing away in the wind. He remembered now. He had died too in the accident. He had just refused to accept that fact, refused to realise that he was dead, refused to give himself peace and join his lover in the other world.
He now understood why his sister had cried so often. He now knew why everyone ignored him, pretended that they couldn't see him. It wasn't pretending. They really couldn't see his spirit form, and his questions were mistaken as phantom whispers, drifting away on a summer breeze.
The darkness was his heartbroken mind, the shadow monsters his empty soul.
Slowly, Charlie took Nigel's translucent hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. They walked down the twilit bamboo trail, the crying melody of a ashen violin hanging in the air.
Together at last.
~*~
About the author
Nicoismysenpai is an aspiring ganderfluid writer who has a couple of books in the process of being edited and spends their time on Wattpad reading, writing and making friends. Two stories of his made it to this anthology.
