The Ring and the Radio

On normal days, the woodcarver, William, was a sensible man. Practical. The type of man who could build a sturdy table that was the perfect fit for the space it occupied. But William was also an artist, and on the days where he was free to create, he glided through his shop, bringing life back to the material that was considered scrap of projects gone by.

Today was one of those days, and this project was a special one. Personal. And while he would give a new beginning to the wood pieces he carefully selected, it wasn’t enough to bring back his true love. He found this was the curse of the artist. To come so close to being a god, but never quite close enough to be satisfied.

Evelyn’s ring sat on a lace cloth on the woodcarver’s bench. He kept it in his sight at all times, hoping beyond hope that Evelyn would somehow form around it. She never did. So, he worked to create a box, carved with all the memories he could summon, to hold the last piece of her.

The sun had already set when William looked up from his work. He knew it was not yet finished, but even an artist needs light to create life. He lit all the candles he could find and placed them around the shop, filling the room with a warm orange glow. But even as the fire crackled and the candles flickered, William was overcome with a chill that wrapped around his bones. He instinctively picked up the ring from the bench. There was no one else in the room, but suddenly, he wasn’t quite sure he was alone.

From across the woodshop, the radio clicked on, a low humming coming from the speakers. William snapped to attention, creeping closer to the source of the noise. With each step the voice became clearer, softer, more familiar. When he finally stood a mere foot in front of the radio, he heard Evelyn’s voice singing to him. Their wedding song pouring from the speakers.

For a moment, all William could do was stare at the radio, sure he must be dreaming. But as the song continued, it grew louder, the music snaking around him, the lyrics visible as wisps of light as it played.

The ring grew hot in the woodcarver’s hand, but he didn’t dare drop it. He clenched his fist tighter and willed the radio to keep playing. He had said goodbye to Evelyn once; he wasn’t sure he could do it again. Somehow, he knew that he only had this one song, this one last chance to be near her.

As the last verse began to play, William called out to Evelyn. He begged her to come back to him. To take him with her. To please not leave him alone. He started to panic. There was only the chorus left. A repeated plea to remember their love for each other. A promise to hold on to each other until the end.

As the lyrics flowed out of the radio, they collected together into a single spirit that shined so brightly that Willaim could see into the world beyond. Standing in the middle of the light was the woodcarver’s wife, a peace on her face he hadn’t seen in the days leading to her death.

Evelyn smiled at William, still singing their song, and reached out to touch his face. He sunk into her hand. Even though he was the one who had lived, he thought this might be the first real breath he had taken since she died. Their song was almost over now, and that breath was getting caught in his chest.

As the final notes sang out from the radio, Evelyn grabbed William’s hands and pulled him in close. They swayed together like they had on their wedding night. William could almost see the white dress she had worn, the pearls strung around her neck. Then, just like they had rehearsed in their living room those many years ago, he spun her around and dipped her as the song ended.

The music stopped. Evelyn was still smiling at William, but he could tell she was fading from him. The details of her face were getting softer, and her hands were growing cold. He gripped the ring tighter in his hand. He was prepared to beg. To bargain. To make a deal for his own soul if he had to. He couldn’t let her go again.

Evelyn looked back to the radio, which began singing a new song, one of despair and acceptance, of loss and hope. As the lyrics swirled around them, they took Evelyn’s light back with them, back to the radio and the other world.

William and his wife stood together while the radio played the sad song, Evelyn fading and the woodshop getting darker as it went on. Just as she was about to disappear, for good this time, William was sure of it, she reached out and pulled a stanza out of the air. She handed the words to William, squeezed his hand, and left with the final note.

The woodshop was silent. The radio was no longer singing and even the fire seemed to stop breathing. The lyrics that Evelyn gifted the woodcarver were still in his hand. He watched as they swirled around Evelyn’s ring and engraved themselves inside.

The sun and the stars are all burned out now

A darkness we cannot escape

But the candles will burn for just one more day

And I’ll stay, Love

I’ll stay in your heart

William walked back to his bench and placed Evelyn’s ring on the lace cloth. He knew now how to finish the box that would display their memories and hold her spirit. He carved through the night, finishing just as the sun was rising, filling the woodshop with light once again.

He placed her ring inside the box, wrapped tightly in the lace cloth, and closed the lid. As he stepped out of the workshop, he breathed in the new day. And for once, he felt alive.