But I See the Bright Eyes

By M.R. Hauck

Love is an unquiet grave.

Edward Lee's wife Anna has been dead for almost a year, and he's just about given up hope of moving on when she appears, beckoning him to her in the moonlight.

Is Eddie going mad, or does love transcend even death itself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beaten Track Publishing
• Release date: Oct 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781786453792

Book preview

But I See the Bright Eyes

But I See the Bright Eyes

A Ghost Story

inspired by the poem

Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe

by

M.R. Hauck

Beaten Track Logo

Beaten Track

www.beatentrackpublishing.com

But I See the Bright Eyes

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Published 2019 by Beaten Track Publishing

Copyright © 2019 M.R. Hauck at Smashwords

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

ISBN: 978 1 78645 379 2

Cover Art: M.R. Hauck

Cover Design: Roe Horvat

Beaten Track Publishing,

Burscough, Lancashire.

www.beatentrackpublishing.com

Love is an unquiet grave.

Edward Lee’s wife Anna has been dead for almost a year, and he’s just about given up hope of moving on when she appears, beckoning him to her in the moonlight.

Is Eddie going mad, or does love transcend even death itself?

Contents

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

More from M.R. Hauck

Beaten Track Publishing

I

Beloved wife

He traced the words over and over again with his fingertip, remembering. He could almost see her there in front of him—her dark eyes under a fringe of wavy brown hair, her skin softly luminescent in the light of their bedroom, pink lips upturned in a dimpled smile that always meant the kind of trouble that made him tingle. How her hands moved when she spoke, never still, pale birds in flight to the cadence of her lilting, deeply pleasing voice. Her laugh, like dark music echoing over the walls of their kitchen as he came up from behind to caress her. Her body, the miracles of love it contained. A thousand memories made over fifteen mostly happy years, reduced to two words etched in marble under the dates, the dash in between them far too short a time.

Beloved wife

"Eddie."

He looked up, his eyes blurry and far away. For a moment, his mind reeled, thinking she was here again, his Anna, her dark hair swirling in the cold cross breeze churning through the tombs. Anna, back from her year-long sleep, come to claim his lips with hers again, to whisper his name into his ear. Come to make it right again with a word, tell him this whole nightmare was over and they could go home, hand in hand, and live again.

He blinked back the tears, and the image dissolved, leaving behind his companion in this journey to the resting place of his—the words stuck like a bitter bolus of regret—beloved wife. Yes?

Can we go? It’s getting cold. Samantha tucked a strand of wheat-coloured hair behind her ear as the wind kicked up again before pulling her coat closer around herself protectively.

Eddie glanced back at the entrance to Anna’s sepulchre, adjusting the lilies he’d brought, now leaning against white marble wet with condensation from winter humidity, and hauled himself up off his knees. He brushed leaves and pebbles from his trousers, straightened his coat and smiled wanly at Samantha. Yes.

They wound their way out of the cemetery and back towards the car, Samantha hooking her arm in his so as not to stumble in her boots on the gravel path. He opened the door for her and handed her into the passenger seat, his ears aware she was talking, his mind far away as he climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the engine over.

She’s not coming back. Not ever. No matter how many times you see her face or hear her voice in your head, Anna is gone. Better to let it go. Forget. Move on. You’ve got to go forward from here on, because there is no going back.

…you listening to me?

Hm? Eddie snapped back from his sorrow, glancing over at Samantha, who had her arms folded across her chest.

She sighed. I guess not.

He reached over and squeezed her thigh, trying for a smile. It felt alien on his face, a rubber mask over a rotten thing. I’m sorry. I’m listening now. What’s up?

Samantha sucked her teeth and stared at him implacably, her expression difficult to read in hasty glances.

Please don’t be angry with me. Not right now.

I was saying, she said slowly, her voice terse, "that this year my mum and dad