An outcast in deep isolation, the story begins with a letter to Byron's wife. Where it goes from there is yet to be seen.

I watched you hide inside of yourself for years.


I saw a moose run by my cabin today. And it was terrible, because the staccato of its hoof-falls were like the pounding of your heart on that lastday. I could have hunted it. That much meat would have lasted a long time. But the truth is, I’ve lost the stomach for killing.

I see bits of you everywhere. The slope of the valley nearby possesses that delicate curve from your chin to your collarbone. The river has your same driving passion. I hear you too. The wind in the trees like your shallow sleeping breath. And when I don't recognize you in the land, I wish for you to be next to me. What would you think if you saw the things I've seen here?

I have tried to chase you from my thoughts. I succeeded in some still moments, then I buckled under the weight of a life without you. Like that house we lived in that time I knocked the support beam loose.

I was never able to get solitude there. I don't mind it now that I have it. If only I could feel the caress of your hand upon my face or look into the well of your shifting green eyes once more - before they faded completely - I could pass on.

I won't.

I will haunt these woods forever.




The End

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