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The Pathetic Moonlight that Stole Elise

A Short Story Based on Three Beethoven Piano Compositions: "The Pathetique," "Moonlight Sonata," and "Fur Elise"

By Hannah Kawira HartwellPublished 5 years ago 6 min read
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It was a dark and stormy night. The sky’s anguish at the world could not be expressed enough through the aggressive pounding of rain on the forest floor, nor the howls of pain in the wind, and vengeance in the thunder. Lightning flashed like threats of sharp knives and swords to the tall and intrusive mountains, as the congregations of trees bowed down in repentant submission to the wrath of their supervisor.

Unable to sleep through the racket, Elise, a young maiden, prized herself from the enveloping embrace of her lover, somehow still peacefully dreaming in spite of the havoc being wrecked meters away. She stared affectionately at her courageous Victor, brave enough to approach her money-hungry father for her hand in marriage, and when he refused Victor’s honest mercantile salary, her hero eloped with her. She couldn’t ever repay him, or thank him enough–abandoning his own family, home, and trade, all for the plight of their true love. Elise's heart tightened with gratitude as she remembered how he rescued her from a cruel enslavement to Count Zar, an old, ugly, aristocrat who had beaten his three previous wives into the grave, and had promised Elise's father a fine sum for allowing him the same liberties with her.

She quietly stepped out onto the balcony of the abandoned tree house they had found in the woods. The slats of rotting timber over her head broke their promise of keeping her dry, but Elise didn’t mind the piercing freshness of the rain plastering her face. The storm, and its dramatic onslaught seemed oddly calming to her, a natural disaster far more withstand-able than the human one she had already undergone.

But Elise’s newly steady heartbeat was quickly unbalanced when an unfamiliar hand gripped her shoulder. She tried to scream, but a thick leather glove gagged her mouth and she was dragged backwards, yanked off the familiar ledge of the balcony, and into the nightmarish storm.

Meanwhile, as if suddenly alerted that his heart was beating alone, Victor stirred in the treehouse’s makeshift bed. Realizing that no Elise slept beside him, he sat bolt upright, a breath catching audibly in his throat as his eyes darted around the darkened room.

The balcony door hung open, and the wind rushed towards him like an advancing army as he lurched towards it, hardly noticing the piercing cold on his bare chest, nor the pricks on his feet from the harsh carpet of leaves and twigs.

The balcony was bare. But on the ground, he bent down to find a small hair clip decorated with a white flower. The very one he had slipped into Elise’s red locks that evening.

Amongst the leaves and dirt that the storm had deposited on the ground, Victor identified a set of hulk-ish footsteps, far larger, and more widely set, than those of his Elise. Without even consciously thinking about it, he found himself pulling on his thickest, warmest hunting jacket, and slipping his feet into fleece lined boots, as he descended the narrow steps into the forest.

Still holding the hair clip, Victor placed it gently to his lips and slipped it softly into his breast pocket before turning to face the passage of thick footsteps. Though the rain had eased, the wind still howled around him like a torrent of impending threats. The wolfish sounds mirrored his thumping fears for his love, whom had been through too much already for her young soul and pure heart. He remembered the risks and sacrifices he had made to free her from her father’s enslavement, but knew that he would do it all over again to see that immeasurable smile grow on her gentle lips.

The garish footsteps Victor followed led him out of the forest, and all of a sudden he was facing the harsh stone wall of the mountain cliff-face hidden behind.

He looked to the left and right, but the footsteps seemed to press straight onwards, into the rock.

It was then that he noticed a small hole in the stone, just large enough to crawl through. As he hauled himself into it he saw that left hand side was streaked with blood, increasing the tempo of his pounding heart and propelling him onwards to crawl through the narrow tunnel faster than he had ever moved before.

The tunnel widened, and eventually he could stand, surrounded by cold grey walls that seemed oddly majestic as they leered at him from all sides. An eerie cavern opened up, and Victor stopped for a moment, his breath stolen by the enchanting majesty of the intricate rock formations and detailed patterns.

“Victor...” Croaked a breathless, fading voice.

Victor’s eyes whirled through the cave in search of the sound he would recognise from miles away.

“Victor...”

The voice of his stolen love became more desperate, but the pleading, painstaking tones echoed in the vast, empty acoustic, coming from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.

“Look up...”

With a heart fluttering breath, he followed Elise's command, but was in no way prepared for what he saw.

Shivering in a torn nightdress, a frail body lay curled up on a ledge above Victor’s head. Her bare feet were patched with ugly purple bruises, and violent red scars sliced their way up her legs like rivers threatening to burst their banks.

Victor couldn’t see Elise’s face, only a mop of tangled hair the same colour as the blood dripping from the ledge down onto the cavern floor.

“Quickly. He will be back soon.”

Victor closed his eyes and took two slow and deep breathes, before using all of his strength to scale the cavern wall that separated him from his heartbeat. His hands and feet wedged themselves in the crevices he had earlier so admired, as he pulled himself up and over the ledge.

When he reached Elise, all he could do was embrace her. He entombed her narrow frame in his warm arms and let her heavy head rest on his shoulder for a moment that might have lasted a lifetime.

“I love you so much.” Was all he could say, as he prized himself a few inches away from her, and untied the knot that bound her wrists to a stone on the cavern wall. The moment she was free, Elise wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to her saviour with every ounce of strength, as Victor gently used the rope to lower them both to the ground.

“Can you walk?” Victor’s eyes suddenly sunk back into caution.

Elise nodded, her eyes only flooded with love.

The light filtering through the cavern roof had turned orange, as a sunrise illuminated the couple’s escape through the tunnel. When they reached the outside, the storm had lifted, and the sun had risen, clear skies banishing the night’s monsters, and promising to start anew.

The two lovers fell onto the wet grass, their faces soaked in a mixture of dew and rainwater. Elise spat her ginger hair out of her mouth, looked at her bedraggled, brave and valiant Victor, and burst out laughing. Her smile was met by his, as the adrenaline of what they had just undergone released itself into the new day.

His jacket plastered with grass, Victor picked up his angel from the ground, and carried her, not back towards the forest, but down towards the rural country village, where he was sure someone would offer them rest and listen to the incredible, if not ludicrous, adventure they had been on.

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About the Creator

Hannah Kawira Hartwell

A writer, actor, musician and activist from Wales. I love poetry, travel, theatre and music, telling the stories that people want to hear, and having a meaningful impact on the people my words interact with!

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