Gardenlover
The world needs more love
“The Last Dance”
The candles flickered low in the old hall, their flames bending toward the music. A waltz, slow, haunting, and familiar, drifted from a record player that had seen nearly as many years as the couple who now moved to its rhythm.
Arthur held Evelyn’s hand gently, the way he had on their wedding night so many Halloweens ago, his fingers trembling but sure. Her dress shimmered faintly in the glow of the jack-o’-lanterns, the red silk catching glints of orange light as they turned. Outside, the woods whispered, and the fog pressed close against the windows, as if listening.
“It feels like our first dance,” Evelyn murmured.
Arthur smiled, his gray hair catching the light. “Except the band’s gone home, and so have all of our friends.”
But this year felt different. The air was heavier. The shadows lingered. When the record hissed and skipped, Evelyn felt a chill. Arthur looked over her shoulder.
In the corner of the room, a figure watched. Cloaked in darkness, patient and silent, its hollow eyes glowed faintly beneath the hood.
Arthur met the gaze of the Reaper and nodded once. “You’re early,” he whispered.
The figure didn’t move, but the shadows seemed to sigh in reply. Evelyn leaned her head against his chest, hearing the faint, uneven thud of his heart.
“Do we stop?” she asked.
“No,” he said softly. “We finish the song.”
And so, they danced, slower now, their steps small but graceful. The music faded into the crackle of the vinyl. The candlelight dimmed.
When the last note ended, the Reaper bowed.
By morning, the room was quiet again, two chairs drawn together, the record still spinning, and the faint scent of candle wax and autumn roses in the air.
They had gone together, as they had lived, hand in hand, dancing through the dark.
~ChatGPT