The Whispers of Love

The Whispers of Love

Some time ago, there lived in a small, tranquil town nestled within rolling hills and productive fields, a young girl by the name of Eliza. She was perfection personified, her loveliness which everybody who had seen her came to admire. The villagers used to tell about her kind smile, the radiant laugh that could light up even the grayest of days, and how she would walk as stately as a dominant willow swaying in the wind. Yet there was something in those eyes, a suffering no one could pick up on, a suffering so profound hence so tranquil that it reverberated in the very depths of her being.

A long time ago, Eliza had known the loveliest love — and affection so unsullied thereby abundant that it had appeared as if the true world itself had decided to unite them. William, a dashing young gentleman with a heart as warm as his smile, had been her real beau. Theirs had been a love meant to endure for centuries, or at least so they thought. They had laughed together, slept together, and hoped to grow old together. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

On one day, when the sun was setting in the sky and the air was filled with the smell of jasmine blooming, disaster struck her. William had been taken from her in a devastating accident. The subtleties of the day eluded Eliza, blurred by the whirlwind of loss that followed. She only knew that in an isolated moment, her world broke apart, and she was forced away to collect the shards of a heart that up until that point did not appear to have the same disposition.

Ever since then, Eliza had become a despondent image of the woman she used to be. She isolated herself, closing out the world and individuals who really focused on her. She moved around her days in the open fields, with memories of William filling her mind. The colorful town she had loved so dearly was cold and vacant now, a sign of life taken away from her. She was no longer the bright lady that they had come to know. Her heart was shattered, and in its place was only an empty pain.

But something strange occurred one day, as Eliza strode through the town square, her senses dulled by the burden of her griefs. A gentle whisper, so light that it felt like almost an imagination from her fanciful mind, blew over the wind. It was a voice, gentle and motherly, calling her. She halted in her steps, her heart playing with a thump. It couldn't be. The voice was so genuine, echoes of a fantasy she had been ignoring for years.

Interest began to stir within her, a yearning she had not felt in years. She moved toward the sound, her feet following an unseen force, until she stood before an ancient oak in the middle of the town. The tree stood upright and satisfied, its large branches stretched far, high above it, as if it had seen countless ages go by. Its bark was weathered, worn and weary, but appeared to exude a tranquil strength.

The whispers intensified as Eliza looked at the tree, their gentle murmur enveloping her with a sense of warmth she had not felt in such a long time. Maybe the tree itself was talking to her heart, enveloping her with its light. There was a strange tug within her, compelling her to step closer.

And then, as if answering to her silent longing, a shining portal materialized before her. It rolled with light, turning with an ethereal glimmer that called her to step nearer. The breeze swept about her, bearing on its breath the fragrance of roses and lavender. It was as if the very grain of existence had groaned open, revealing to her the mystery of the other universe.

For an instant, Eliza hesitated. Fear gripped her heart. Think about the chance that this was just an illusion. Think about the chance that she was essentially imagining the whole thing, yearning for a connection she could never have again. Whatever, where it matters, she knew she could not shake it off. The voice, the whispers, the entrance — all were too much, too alive with the burst of adoration which had once been poured into her to overflowing. She took a shuddering breath and emerged into the space on the other side of the doorway.

Her general surroundings changed at once. The quiet town square vanished and was replaced with the wild hubbub of a yelling city. The laughter whispers and the babble swirled around, blending with the rumble of trucks and the aroma of fresh bread. The highways were fixed with beautiful slows down, their goods spilling out into the market — texture, flavors, flowers, and baubles of all sorts. The world that she found herself in was alive, teeming with people, but far away, as if she were living at the edge of another world.

And then he was there. William.

He was in front of her, as beautiful as she remembered him, his dull hair blown tousled by the wind, his eyes flashing with the very devilish glint that had made her heart stumble. Standing in front of her, he left her dizzy, and for an instant, the fury in her heart seemed to erase, as if time went backwards. Eliza reached out, her trembling hand eager to touch him, to sense the warmth of his skin again.

Either way, as her fingertips brushed against nothingness, he vanished.

Her heart froze. She blinked, once, twice, but he was no longer there. There was nothing but the busy city around her, indifferent to her grief. Her heart broke again. Had she dreamed it? Had her longing for him created such a fantasy so vivid, so intense, that it could fool her? The answer, she knew, was irrelevant. The frustration was something similar. The hollowness in her chest stayed, immobile.

The whispers of love, as soft as they were, started again. They compelled her to continue searching. So, with nothing but the leftovers of hope, Eliza followed the voice, the whispers, through the streets and side alleys, crossing over reality for the man that she had lost.

Through it all, Eliza encountered infinite obstacles. There were times of uncertainty, minutes where the exasperation of her suffering seemed unbearable. But, through it all, the whispers continued, leading her through the shadows, encouraging her never to lose hope. And, with each passing day, Eliza's belief in love only grew stronger, her heart finding a glimmer of something greater on the horizon even in the most desolate locations.

But once again and then, after what had felt like forever, she caught herself remaining before the ancient oak tree. There was silence in the air, the whispers like a ghost, as if the world outside stood waiting in bated breath. Eliza's heart pounded with excitement as she scanned around her, praying on the off-chance. And there, beside the tree, waiting for her, sat William.

His eyes were full of the same love, the same longing that had destroyed between them. He connected, grasping her hand in his, and wordlessly took her through the gate again, to their own era.

And that was when it happened. Standing side by side under the oak tree, wrapped in the soft murmurs of adoration surrounding them like a soothing embrace, Eliza lost the burden of the so many years so packed with agony and misery. There was no frustration, no tragedy anymore. Only love. And it was eternal.

Smiling, William embraced her, his arms tight and comforting. Their love had never really perished, and now, as they stood together, they knew that nothing could ever separate them again. Theirs had been a long journey, one of suffering and yearning, but it had brought them back to each other, and that was all that mattered.

As they hugged under the oak tree, the whispers receded into the distance, and all that remained was their hearts beating as one. Furthermore, at that time, Eliza knew that love, real romance, was more entrenched than time, more entrenched than sorrow, and more entrenched than any power that would try to dislodge it.

Together, they had found their way back to one another, and the promise of a future in love and satisfaction eased before them.