Shelter through the storm

The wind howled outside the cabin. The incoming storm rattled rotten remnants of what used to be shutters. Inside, the walls groaned and flexed with each churning of the squall. A single flickering candle cast shadows on the coarse wood walls. They danced quietly to the rhythms of the downpour. Jason sat huddled on a worn and faded rug, gently rocking, his thin shoulders hunched against the chill.

"It's just the wind, Jason," a voice rasped from the corner. "Don't you fret."

Jason didn't reply. He just stared into the flame, his eyes wide and unblinking.

"You should eat something," the voice continued, its words emphasized with a desperate, concern. "You've barely touched your food all day."

Jason shook his head, his lips moving silently.

"I know you're scared, Jason," the voice said, its tone softening. "But I'm here. I'll always be here."

Jason finally looked up, his gaze fixed on the spot where the voice seemed to emanate. But no one was there. Just the shadows, dancing and twisting upon the wall.

"Why are you so pathetic?" Jason whispered, his voice barely a breath.

The voice didn't answer. It just sighed, a sound like wind rustling through wet leaves.

Jason reached out, his hand trembling, and touched the air where the voice originated.

"I'm here, Jason," the voice whispered, its tone filled with a longing that Jason knew too well.

The candle sputtered and died, plunging the cabin into darkness. Jason sat alone, the cold saturating into his bones. He could feel the wind outside, howling its lonely song, the rains began to hammer at the dilapidated roof with renewed vigor, and he knew he was alone.

He closed his eyes, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He wished, with a heart-wrenching ache, that he could just feel something, anything, besides the cold emptiness that consumed him. He wished he could hear the voice again, but he knew, that long lost melodious muse that he missed so dearly wasn't coming back.