Kristina Marie Darling

Noctuary (i)

The brass locket, which contained only an empty frame, was the first in a series of ominous love tokens that appeared beneath her window.

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When he fastened the clasp on her necklace, every nightingale seemed to sing. Their swollen throats and colorless eyes.

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He reminded her of Petrarch, driven by the necessity of pursuit. The beloved as interchangeable, a vessel. A bird heaving under the weight of an otherworldly song.