Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 106, No. 4 & 5. Whole No. 648 & 649, October 1995

A mist surrounded the vacant house

 on the edge of a jagged shore,

And it seemed to clutch at a broken pane

 in the bay on the second floor,

And those who wandered the lonely beach

 were destined to feel a chill

When two pale faces looked out at them

 from the depths of the window sill.

They spoke, in town, of the fisherman,

 in a solemn and muted way,

And the lovely daughter he’d raised with care,

 and trusted would always stay;

But tides are fickle, and plans are frail,

 and she’d offered her heart to one

From her father’s crew, and they planned, he knew,

 to wed when the trip was done.

It took no more than a stealthy shove

 in the dark of a stormy night,

And his victim fell, with a startled yell,

 as he frantically flailed from sight.

When the ship returned, and the young girl learned

 that the ocean had claimed her lad,

She screamed and cried that he hadn’t died,

 while her father prayed he had.

Detached and silent they strove to live,

 and cope with the dreadful strain,

And closely watched what the sea would give,

 from the view of the window pane—

Two faces pressed to the misty glass,

 two minds that were loath to sleep,

With hollowed eyes, thinking soon would rise

 a spectacle from the deep.

No future date would relieve their wait

 for a vision that never came,

And they lingered there, till, in disrepair,

 the house was an empty frame—

Two wraiths, eternally side by side,

 though never a word was said—

A daughter waiting to be a bride,

 and a father consumed with dread.