Kane sat at his desk, looking at the picture oh his dearly departed brother, and his family. He thought of the nephew he would never get to see, the sister-in-law that he will never know. Kane took out his pen, and began writing.
My dearest brother,
I know you are no longer with us, yet, I have a strange compulsion to write to you. I know, as children, you were more concerned with the beauty of the world, as I wanted to go to war. I also know how much Venus meant to you.
This is why I was completely shocked, when you gave your blessing for our marriage. You tried to warn me, dearest brother. A muse and a deamon just can’t make it. Oh, how right you are.
I laugh, because you were always the wiser. I could have never asked for a better brother. I sit here, Bach playing on the computer. Do you remember, brother, how you got me into Bach? I was always more of a Handel person, but you just had this infectious love for Bach.
I can remember nights, you would just play Bach, until I would grow weary, but you would keep on. You old devil you, I’ve come to learn to love Bach. Thank you.
I never got to thank you for many things, oh my dear flesh and blood muse. It was through you that I grew into a more well-rounded deamon.
Fare thee well,
K. DeSade
With that, Kane puts the letter into an envelope, and walked to his back garden. It has been three long months, since the death of his brother. Yet, the wound on his soul is like it was put there yesterday. He kissed the letter, before placing it on his headstone.
Kane, alone in the back garden, sobs silently, as he looked up, to his bedroom, where he knew Lillith had just arrived, and looked out the window.
She looked down at Kane. “What is the matter, my love?” Lillith asked him, “I noticed you were playing Bach earlier, come to bed love.” With that, Kane dried his eyes, and smiled, knowing justice was served, as he went to bed for the evening.
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