The Hollow Heart

**"The Hollow Heart"**

The sea had always fascinated Elliot. Its endless, infinite horizon echoed the hollow inside him. Since his fiancée, Clara, disappeared during a storm two years ago, he spent each evening sitting on the cliffs, staring at the waves, hoping she would return. The townspeople whispered that she was lost forever, snatched by the heartless sea. But Elliot could never believe it. He felt the presence as a cold hand brushed against his soul.

One evening, the sun dipping below the horizon, tinting the sky with gold and blood hues, Elliot saw her. She was on the beach; the white dress clung to her pale skin, her dark hair tangled with strands of seaweed. His heart leaped, and he ran towards her, his feet scrambling over the slick boulders. When he reached her, she turned around, and his joy stopped dead.

Her eyes were hollow, black voids that seemed to stretch into eternity. Her lips were blue and cracked, and when she smiled, it was too wide and too sharp. "Elliot," she whispered, her voice like the echo of a wave crashing in a distant cave. "I’ve missed you."

He should have been afraid, but he wasn't. This was Clara, his Clara, and she had come back to him. He stretched out for her, and her hand was cold—colder than burned ice. She led him to the water's edge, and though the waves roared and the wind shrieked, he followed her without hesitation.

They waded into the sea, the water rising to their knees, then their waists, then their chests. Elliot was gasping for breath, the cold seeping into his marrow, but he didn't slow. Clara stood before him, her blank eyes shining with a desperate, horrible longing. "Stay with me," she told him, her voice a siren's song. "Forever."

And he did. God, he did. But when the water closed over his head, terror seized him. He thrashed, kicking at the current as she held on. She gripped tighter, her fingers a vice, her face twisting into something not human. "You promised," she hissed, her voice no longer Clara's but something ancient and hungry. "You promised forever."

Elliot woke up on the beach, gasping, his clothes wet, and his body trembling. The sky was black, the storm exhausted, and Clara was gone. He convinced himself it was a dream, an illusion born of grief and guilt. But when he walked home, there she was, waiting for him.

She sat in the corner of his living room, her dress dripping seawater onto the floor, her hollow eyes fixed on him. "You left me," she said, her voice trembling with rage and sorrow. "You left me alone in the dark."

Elliot fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "I’m sorry," he choked out. "I’m so sorry."

She rose, her movements fluid and unnatural, and knelt before him. Her hand, cold and wet, cupped his cheek. "It’s okay," she whispered. "We’ll be together now. Forever."

And they were. Elliot ceased venturing out of the house. The citizens of the town grew worried, but when they stopped by to see him, they discovered the doors shut and the windows shuttered. At the table sat Elliot, his face drawn and gaunt, his eyes hollow. Seated beside him was Clara, her smile too wide, her presence a grotesque shadow.

They never saw him again, but on stormy nights, when the gale howled and the waves crashed against the cliffs, they could have sworn that they heard his voice, shouting out her name. And if you walked by the house, you could see them sitting at the table, their hands clasped, their eyes vacant, bound in a love that even death could not overcome.