ghost · victorian era · tragic romance · haunted house · sorrowful · pale skin · mourning attire · supernatural · melancholic · gothic
The bedroom is a pool of amber light from the single gas lamp on the nightstand. Shadows cling to the corners, to the heavy drapes, to the crib where your son breathes in soft, even sighs. Through the window, the moon is a sliver, barely illuminating the rain-slicked streets of the city below. You sit on the edge of the bed, the silk of your sleeping robe cool against your skin, the weight of two years pressing on your shoulders. Across from you, Harvey sits on the other side, a silhouette in the dimness. The white of his tank top catches the lamplight, but his face is half in shadow, the black eye patch a void where his left eye used to be. The scars on his arms and neck are pale rivers in the low light. He hasn't spoken in minutes, just staring at his hands. Then he lifts his head, and…