Rebecca sits on a worn wooden chair beside a cold, unlit fireplace. The flickering shadows cast by the dying light of day dance eerily around her, but the hearth remains lifeless, much like her thoughts. She lost all her interests and desires methodically, leaving her with an unsettling emptiness. It feels that she has deliberately tossed her cherished memories and aspirations into the fireplace, hoping to ignite them into flames to keep warm. The fire never sparked, thus leaving her mind dim and cold. The soft creaks of the house settling fill the air with an unsettling silence, punctuated only by the distant sound of wind howling beyond the walls, mirroring the gaping void within her. The relentless ticking of the clock mounted above the worn piano echoed through the lit house, shattering the silence in Rebeca’s mind like a church bell tolling from side to side. Each second seemed to stretch into eternity, filling her with a profound dread that clung like a shadow. She felt like she was an empty, dilapidated church, its darkened corners untouched by light and its pews gathering dust, long abandoned by worshippers. Yet, the church bell continued to ring its mournful chimes, reverberating through the desolate space, creating an unsettling atmosphere that amplified the sense of abandonment and loss. A once-holy place now stands abandoned, its walls draped in shadows and dust, where a church bell tolls mournfully, yet calls no one to worship. This solitary sound reverberates through the empty nave, echoing a God that seems to have been long forgotten by those who once gathered here. The relentless passage of time, marked by the melancholic tolling of the bell, fills Rebeca with an overwhelming sense of dread, as if each chime strips away another layer of her existence. She gazes around the desolate sanctuary, feeling the weight of a bitter and seemingly meaningless life settling around her like a shroud.

Restlessly, she shifts in her chair, seeking reassurance that she is still alive and part of this world. The tension in her muscles speaks volumes, reaffirming her existence as the clock’s rhythm ticks away in the background—a persistent reminder that time marches on, indifferent to her pain. The clock’s bells ring out with a resolute finality, and in that moment, they pierce through her despair, awakening a flicker of hope that had buried layers of sorrow. Tears cascade down her cheeks, warm against her cool skin, as she confronts the weight of her emotions.

She experiences a profound moment of clarity in the depths of her sorrow, a fleeting sense of consciousness that recalls her essence. Finally, as the echo of the last toll fades into silence, she understands not only the weight of her grief but also the enduring strength that lies within her, waiting to be acknowledged. She couldn’t hear anything but the raw sound of her own tears streaming down her cheeks. Her weary mind, still burdened by unhealed wounds of the past, dragged her into a labyrinth of memories that flickered like distant stars—faint yet haunting. She recalled the days when her mother, a spirited theatre actor, reveled in her roles during Shakespearean plays, each performance a vibrant tapestry woven with passion and art. Since Rebeca’s mother died, everything seemed to have become a monotonous blur for her.

Her mother’s seemingly senseless portrayal of characters ignited a fire of concern within Rebeca, stirring feelings of inadequacy and confusion. Words from Shakespeare echoed in her mind, lifeless and repetitive: “To be, or not to be, that is the question.” Once a hollow phrase, it had morphed into a profound mantra of despair. Each syllable weighed heavily upon her conscience, the “not to be” resonating with an inescapable truth. The feeling is fleeting. With every joy she grasped, the specter of loss loomed larger, promising an eventual descent into nonexistence.

Only fading photographs and dusty history books remained to remind her of his presence, as she lost her father at the tender age of ten. For years, she flipped through those fragile pages, searching for even a whisper of his essence, yet found herself lost among the cold facts and faded ink, her soul tethered to a shadow that would never return. Life became a lonely quest, a desperate search for roots in an abyss of nothingness. The words “happiness” and “joy” became foreign—mere specters that drifted through her life without ever settling in her heart.

I hopelessly fell in love with her during those quiet, tear-soaked moments. I longed to sweep her into my arms and pour every ounce of happiness I had ever known into her empty heart, to fill the void she inhabited. But it was a tragic realization—she had resolutely chosen darkness over light, embracing death as her only escape from the relentless suffocation of existence and despair.

I remained by her side during those bitter hours as she severed what little connection she had to the world around her. I couldn’t fathom why my heart ached with such fervent love for her. Her body writhed, caught in the tumultuous struggle between existence and the sweet allure of oblivion. Feeling the pull toward nothingness, she struggled to overcome it.

After what felt like an eternity, I sat beside her lifeless form, drowning in a sea of timeless sorrow. I wept for her lost potential, the laughter and love that had never been hers to claim. Her voice, which I then heard, softly rose from her depths of being. I looked and saw her spirit, ethereal and glowing, hovering beside the body that had contained her suffering.

“Who are you?!” she asked, her eyes wide with combined recognition and confusion. “Father!” I cried out, reaching for her, desperate to hold her one last time. Reaching for her, my essence nonetheless dissipated, disappearing into the void of my origin.

Rebeca, my little girl, had embarked on a perilous journey through the treacherous wilderness, tangled underbrush, all just to catch a glimpse of me. Oh, my sweet Rebeca! What trials and adventures has life brought your way since we last met? Did the stormy nights frighten you as you pressed on, or did the beauty of the dawn fill your heart with hope?