I imprisoned her in a glass globe. I had no choice – her crime was too great. When I hold it I hear a melody, the one she hummed every moonrise. It comes upon me like falling snow. And I am so cold.
“The lake is NOT haunted,” I told the tourists. Some looked nervous, despite the parade of multicoloured boats. We needed tourism, and I’ve never stopped working to keep this town running. My death was inconsequential.