[The Fifth]

Kenelm sat on a crumbling stone bench, the one that had moss growing out of every crack in its marble-ish surface. His hands drifted flawlessly against the old instrument, carrying out a sorrowful, yet soft tone with his eyes closed. The 'beauty' of the garden consisted of rows upon rows of beautiful flowers, already opening to greet the sun and to exhale the air from this ghost-ridden castle, their leaves filled with drops of liquid silver that captured the reflection of all that it saw.

Then an odd thing occurred. Kenelm stopped playing his music, and looked up at the sun. He murmured, "I cannot play... Anor bears no music for me..." He slowly stood up, the old harp held carefully in his slender hands. He then looked in the direction of Anna. The wind rustled the leaves slightly, making a few petals drop off the venerable flowers. Kenelm lowered his eyes, then walked silently out, his tresses dragging 'on' the ground behind him, and if you'd look closely, you would see that his form casted no shadow. He retreated back into the dank castle, not caring if Anna followed him.

Once more, the music of the harp wandered through the halls and snaked about the pathway and Kenelm sung mournfully in a soft, quiet voice. The servants did not pause in their 'work', for this was a daily happening. Kenelm heard the crash of glass faintly, continued to play, and a servant-ghost drifted towards the sound. Father again... such a reckless one, always breaking things, like the way he broke my heart.. Kenelm thought in response, then sighed and plucked the strings.