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So you have come after all.

I doubted it in the beginning. But what we share runs deeper than ordinary love, doesn’t it? Others splash about in a puddle believing it to be the sea. We are drowning in the endless ocean with no one but the cold stars to watch over us.

I haven’t always been that poetic, have I?

I hope not.

I would like to see you smile. When was the last time you smiled?


Please smile for me. You have such a pretty smile.


Am I scaring you? I know, my hair is a little messy, what with the wind tousling and tangling it all the time. It used to be beautiful, I think. Never as beautiful as yours, though. No matter how long I combed my hair, yours would always be lusher and shinier. Is it still? I can’t see it under your hood.

How I would love to touch it.

I can hardly feel my fingers. The cold has numbed them.

Our bodies are so incredibly fragile, and yet they are all we have, all we are. Strange, isn’t it?

You look so worried. Hush, I haven’t betrayed you. I told them it was me who seduced you. I told them I had bewitched you with a potion.

They wanted to burn me, so I would go straight to Hell, as the priest said. But wood is expensive, the Lord Mayor replied. Witches belong at the stake, the priest insisted.

The people of our village have always been economical, haven’t they? Why fell a tree for a single execution if you can use it for all of them? When the Lord Mayor put the issue to vote, my father even volunteered for pulling me up.


Don’t look ashamed. It’s not your fault, nor is it mine. Love is never unnatural.


Please don’t pity me, either. It doesn’t even hurt. The way the rope kisses your skin is like a sweet promise. A lover’s touch.


You should join me. We could spend eternity side by side, swaying in the breeze.

Why are you growing so pale?

What awaits you in life but hunger and pain and a shallow grave?

Do you prefer to spend eternity covered by the warm, musty earth rather than surrounded by whispering branches and the brilliant night sky?


Take off your pretty jewellery, my little lady. There is only one necklace for you to wear now, and it will turn your skin black and make your eyes bulge from their sockets.


You will still be beautiful to me.


My love. I can see that you want to leave.


Go, then.


And when you return, I shall still be waiting for you beneath the silent stars.



I am a 16-year-old aspiring writer from Switzerland. Should you be interested in reading more of my work, please visit



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