Long ago, in a village nestled between a dense forest and the tempestuous sea, lived a woman named Rose. It was said that her beauty was unparalleled, her eyes held the gleam of the stars and her skin the luminescence of moonlight. Her older sister, once the jewel of the land, faded to shadow in Rose's radiant presence and in jealousy sought out a sinister witch to lay a curse on her sister.
The curse was cruel yet oddly poetic. Rose was to exist only when the night was inky dark and the moon was full, from then on she became known as The Woman Who Talked to the Moon. Every full moon she would emerge from the veil of oblivion, pleading with the moon for a way to break her curse, but the moon silent in its ethereal beauty, offered no answers.
As years passed Rose began to sing, her voice laced with sorrow, desperation, and beauty that transcended human understanding. Her song was a lamentation that seeped into the very marrow of all who heard it, filling them with such a profound sadness that tears would freely flow from their eyes. The song was a mournful echo of her soul, full of loss and longing.
The despair that laced Rose's melody was so potent that over the years, one by one, the townspeople left their homes unable to bear the weight of her sorrow. The village became a ghost of its former self, abandoned and desolate. Only Rose remained, a solitary figure under the full moon, singing to the indifferent sky.
Decades had passed since the curse was placed on her. One full moon Rose stood on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. The wind was howling that night, and the sea roared in empathy the waves crashing against the cliffs with a ferocity that mirrored the storm within her. As she began her song, the elements seemed to respond. Her voice swelled with the wind reaching a crescendo that shook the earth and sea.
Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. An understanding, a realisation so poignant washed over her that it almost brought her to her knees, but instead, she stood taller, her voice ringing clear over the turmoil of wind and sea. A small smile graced her face, a strange tranquility settling in her heart.
Without hesitation she ran, her song unfaltering even as she neared the cliff's edge. As her melody reached its climax, she took a leap of faith into the void, arms spread wide as if embracing the uncertain fate. She plunged into the raging sea, the final notes of her song swept away by the violent winds.
The moon bore silent witness to her fall, its light following her into the depths. Her song, however, lingered, hauntingly beautiful, echoing over the abandoned town and the now calm sea. Even in her absence her presence remained, etched into the memory of the land and the moon she spoke to.
And so the tale of Rose, The Woman Who Talked to the Moon, remained, a melancholy melody in the hearts of those who knew her story a reminder of the heartrending beauty and despair that once resonated under the light of the full moon. The woman might have been gone, but her song was destined to reverberate through the ages, a mournful symphony echoing under the silent gaze of the moon.
July 12th, 2023
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