Comforting Shadows

It was a fine art, drawing with a quill. But after so many centuries, Sebastian had mastered it.

Eventually, he tilted his head to inspect his finished work. Only when he was satisfied that it was a true depiction, did he turn to the next page. And then the words flowed.

Dipping the quill over and over. He scribbled tormented thoughts in the light of a tiny candle. Though he didn’t truly need it, it offered some comfort in the darkness.

His guilt eased in increments with each confessing page. He purged pain and longing, as best as he could. Filling the pages with his need for closeness with Elsabet. And his desire to hold her.

He articulated his dream of a day when he could reach for her and know she’d turn into his touch, rather than him risking the likelihood of rejection if he reached for her. All the complexities of this life with her was, ironically, wearing him down. Whereas she still stood fast.

Like a boulder in the tides