It always happened at the same time of day, when the light started to leave. In deepening shadows, I found it difficult to see the boundaries that separated one object from another. That’s when the question arose: Did I choose to come here?


He appeared in my life like an apparition. No context. No connection to anyone or any place I knew. He stayed, in my presence or in my mind, until I left with him.


We slept through most of the daylight hours, so it was during this short, uneasy interval, before the night took us in, that I had to subdue myself. The vials of laudanum seemed a laughable anachronism at first but became a simple, necessary medicine.


He offered few words, even days after the ceremony, but the low tones were pleasant and not without care. I was more troubled by what he did not say. The silences seemed to contain unspoken volumes, and I was afraid to know their contents.


I remember, in those first days at the farm, how he would look off suddenly and stare into the woods or the abandoned house, as if expecting someone to emerge. And then one day, she did.


I walked out one evening to find her sitting there with him, at our table, as if she had been here all along.


Her familiarity, both with him and with the farmhouse, was obvious. She did not conceal it. And he did not explain. I felt like I had suddenly entered a strange, awful dream in which everything I took to be real was not.


Rather than explain, he simply left us alone, as if all of this were not his problem, as if we needed to figure out what was happening here and come to terms with it.  We spoke, tentatively at first, but soon without any need to guard or attack. Though I feared what she might be, I found her strangely intriguing.


My daytime rest was flooded with visions of escape and revenge, but I awoke knowing I would not enact those scenes. Soon, only on occasion would these impulses return, just a flash in the mind, taken away the moment they looked at me.


After a time, the need for answers became less urgent. I became as attached to her as I was to him.


Soon, without words, I came to understand that she had sent him to find me. I was the new arrival, not her. And so it was, that everything I took to be real was, in fact, not.


I don’t know if it was the laudanum or some unexplainable power they possessed, but I could not seem to keep a thought of resentment or escape in my mind for more than a few seconds. During the long, waking hours of night, we were energetically intertwined. I sometimes couldn’t tell where one of us left off and the other began.


I awoke from sleep late one afternoon to find him gone. She said nothing but smiled.


Some days passed, and I began to worry. Noticing my mood one night, she led me out to the field to conduct a ritual with her. By the end of it, the moon had silently answered all my questions.


We await their return. We will welcome her with love.


I will tell her that the fear is temporary. She will understand in time that we were never separate, that everything before now was only a dream.