Within The Mist
Description

The evening air of a Winter in Venice cloaks many things… Passion, destiny, sorrow… Perhaps even the spectre of death waits within the mist…

The misty evening air of a Winter in Venice cloaks many things…. Some who are passionate lovers hoping for stolen moments….. others who are merely the cutthroats and thieves that plague any city filled with the wealth of visitors and citizens of palaces….. But what else lies hidden within the mist? The voice of an angel lures…. each perfect note beckons and promises untold pleasures…. until, finally, a broken heart succumbs to desire…. and Fate weaves a new thread into the tapestry that is the mystery of life itself….

Inspired by the music of Riccardo Foresi, the photography of Vincenzo Chiofalo, and the eternal lure of Gaston LeRoux’s The Phantom of the Opera… discover what waits Within The Mist…

Excerpt:

He continued to sing, the lyrical, lilting Italian words caressing her spirit and pulling her closer to him. When she finally stepped into the chamber where he was, she stared in wonder. The room was lit with what appeared to be a thousand candles, their soft glow reflecting off the polished wooden floor and throwing frenetic shadows everywhere. Seated at the piano was a slender man, dressed all in black. His hair was dark, and the hands that whispered over the keys of the instrument were long-fingered and elegant. Hands shaped for making love in any form he chose.

He played the last notes of the mesmerizing song and slowly turned to look at her. His dark eyes glittered, flames dancing wildly in their ebony depths, and he held out his hand to draw her forward. She went to him and dropped to her knees, head bowed, tears streaking her face as she let the hood of her cape fall to hide her shame.

“You came to end my life. Why?”

“I cannot bear the pain of not knowing you.”

“But you do know me. I am part of you.”

“You are madness!” She retorted with real anger surging into her being, giving her strength and making her look up at him. “You have taken everything!”

“I took nothing,” he admonished with gentle warmth. “I am part of you.”

“How can that be?”

He smiled. She felt the kiss of his indulgence touch her heart.

“You created me,” he murmured. “The night he died, you gave me life.”

She was confused, and the room was suddenly growing colder with each beat of her heart.

“Why did you let me find you?”

He tilted his head to one side and considered her question.

“Perhaps because it is time for me to return the gift of life to you, tesoro mio?”







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Denyse Bridger
Canadian born and bred, and a lifelong dreamer, I began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when I wasn’t creating in some artistic form. My life has had several on More...