Every night he heard her voice, making him desirous, like an unrequited yearning to be conquered, for her melodious tone breached the tranquility, setting an ensemble spreading her mesmerizing tone.
He had wandered haplessly countless night over the boulder in the woods and stared the old dilapidated fort, the deserted place from where the voice appeared. Like a seance was set and the water gently rippled on that isolated lake. He had tried many times, but somehow never could muster enough courage to cross the lake to find the person behind the mystic voice.
But tonight was different, the blue moon was vibrant, the night ghoulish and her aria a shade more melodious than before, drawing him to the source, and nothing seemed insuperable, such was her draw.
Copyright © Shantanu Baruah
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