𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨, 𝐒𝐚𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧 | 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐭

[@Tenebrarum-Manuss]

The Mystery Under the Hat
In the dim light of a rainy autumn afternoon, a lone figure strolled along the cobblestone path that bordered the quiet canal. The man, cloaked in a long, dark overcoat, his tall top hat tilted slightly forward, seemed to blend with the mist that clung to the ancient city. His footsteps were muffled by the wet leaves that had fallen from the trees lining the path, their golden and amber hues bright against the damp earth. The city around him, with its towering spires and intricate stone facades, loomed like a forgotten kingdom wrapped in the embrace of time and memory.
The streetlamps had already flickered to life, casting a soft glow through the mist and drizzle, their warm light reflecting off the wet cobblestones. It was a city suspended between dusk and darkness, where the boundaries between the past and present seemed to blur. The faint sound of rain pattered against the stone streets and the surface of the canal, a rhythmic, melancholy song that echoed through the quiet streets.
As he walked, the man’s gaze lingered on the reflections in the water-tall, ghostly images of the buildings that rose up on the other side, their sharp roofs reaching for the heavens like silent sentinels. He adjusted his collar against the chill of the wind, pulling his overcoat tighter around him, though there was something more than the weather that weighed on his mind. His silhouette, framed by the dim glow of the lamps, moved with a deliberate slowness, as though each step was calculated, leading him toward some inevitable conclusion.
He paused at the edge of a bridge, leaning slightly over the stone railing, watching the mist roll across the water. In the distance, the faint chime of a clock tower rang out, its echo carrying across the stillness. The man’s gloved hand gripped the cold stone as if seeking some anchor in the swirling gloom. His breath misted in the air, but he paid no mind to the dampness that soaked his shoulders and hat. The city felt deserted, and yet, it was alive with unseen whispers-memories of those who had once walked these streets, of secrets buried beneath the centuries-old stone.
For a moment, the man allowed his thoughts to drift, back to a time when this city had been his home, a place filled with laughter, warmth, and love. But that had been many years ago, before the darkness fell upon his life. Now, the city seemed like a reflection of his own soul-beautiful, yet shadowed, filled with echoes of the past that refused to fade.
The rain began to fall more heavily, turning the street lamps into blurred halos of light, and yet he did not move. He had come here with a purpose, and though the weight of his memories pressed down upon him, he knew this was where he belonged tonight. A soft rustle came from behind him, and he turned his head slightly, sensing the presence of someone else nearby. Yet, when he looked back down the street, there was no one to be seen. Only the mist and rain, dancing in the dim light.
He turned back to the canal, letting the city’s silence envelop him once more. Tonight, he would walk these streets until the rain washed away the last traces of who he had once been. The man tipped his hat, as if bidding farewell to the ghost of his past, and continued his slow journey through the fading autumn light, leaving behind only the faint echo of his footsteps.

[@reinaldosouza262]

Que bela história!👏👏🇧🇷🙌

[@tatana7291]

Nádherné... 🖤
Podzimní čas a tyto melodie bolí a jsou krásné zároveň... 🖤