Eben's Eternal Love
In the dark shadows of a valley stood a dainty little cottage, where lived an old, feeble man. His name was Eben. He had spent the entirety of his life in this secluded abode, surrounded by towering mountains, whispering winds, and a silence that echoed his loneliness.
Life hadn't been kind to Eben. He had been a sprightly young man filled with dreams and hope when he had first moved here with his beloved wife. They'd envisioned a quiet life, away from the madding crowd, filled with wanderings in the woods and calm evenings spent together. Fate, however, had other plans.
Eben's beloved fell ill within years after their life had just started settling in. She was all he had, and her crippling illness left him distraught. Despite it all, he tended to her needs with a gentle fortitude, carrying the emptiness in his heart with a sad smile that never reached his eyes.
"Sweetheart, you must fight this," Eben would murmur to her, holding her frail hand in his strong grip, "Remember, we promised each other a lifetime."
His wife, even with a shadow of death looming over her, never faltered. She'd smile back at him, every line on her face signing the epic of their love. "Promise me, Eben," she'd say, even when her voice began to falter, "you will carry on. Do not bury yourself with me."
One frosty winter night, she breathed her last in his arms. Eben, sitting there in the dim candlelight, felt a part of him crumble and fall apart. He had lost a part of his own existence. Even as the sun rose the next day, Eben's world remained cloaked in an endless night.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, yet Eben's life was as inconsolable as the day he had bid her goodbye. He lived her absence every day, every hour, every minute. Though he never voiced it, Eben wished for the end to come, for the end meant going back to her.
In the serenity of the valley, Eben spent his days quietly mourning. He would often sit by the window, gaze falling upon the spot where they would sit together, basking in the sun, telling each other stories. Now, he told their stories to the empty chair that waited for its occupant to return.
"My Angel," he would whisper to the wind, hoping it would carry his words to her, "Life feels like a meaningless echo without you."
He filled his solitude with their memories, replaying each precious moment they shared. Everything in the cottage held a piece of history that reminded him of her. He would kiss her picture goodnight softly, wishing her a peaceful slumber, signifying his undying love for her.
One day, during a storm, Eben fell profoundly sick. He lay on his bed, feeling his life slowly dimming away. A part of him was ready, ready to reunite with his beloved. He recollected their moments of joy, their moments of despair, and breathed in the essence of their love one last time.
Eben's last words were whispered amidst the blaring storm, almost lost, and yet they carried so much weight. "Angel, I am coming."
The storm passed, leaving behind an eerie silence. And within this silence, Eben's journey had come to an end. His lifeless frame lay in the same bed where he had whispered hundreds of goodnights and stories to his beloved. With his death, their tale of eternal love was told one final time in the valley they called home.
This is the tale of a man who loved deeply and grieved so intensely that death felt like a sweet reunion. The mountains still echo with Eben's stories and their tale of love, and the wind still seems to whisper to the vacant chair, telling it of Eben's longing for his Angel.
As for Eben, he finally got the end he wished for, eternal peace with his beloved. His love story, narrated through his solitude, was not a tragedy but, a testament of love beyond life and death.
