Michelle Kane

My dearest Ophelia, I pray this letter finds you in better health than it leaves me.

I had delayed writing this for as long as I could bear it, for I do not want to cause you any more strain upon your heart.

The house has grown cavernous with your absence.

It began the night you departed.

Each corridor yawns like an open throat as I pass it.

And the temptation to walk into the shadow and be done with what ills me is tempting.

Ophelia, how glad I am that you are not here to witness my falling.

I do fear that I have become ill, not with the same melancholia that has afflicted you so deeply.

No, I have been having terrors in the night.

I have woken in places other than my bedchamber with no memory of how I've gotten there.

It is so that I've become afraid to even try to sleep.

and now even my days are besotted with exhaustion.

It is the owl, Ophelia.

It will not leave me be.

The first night after your departure, an owl settled upon the iron rail outside my chamber window, white like a ghost, with eyes like the abyss, was looking in on me.

My heart raced when I first looked up and saw its face there, but I laughed at myself when I realized it was only an owl.

I am no longer laughing, my love.

Once my initial startle passed, I welcomed the bird.

I know you loved your nocturnal animals, being greatly crepuscular yourself.

I remember once you told me that an owl represents knowledge.