While I Live

In the windswept cliffs of 1920s Cornwall, a young prodigy battles the relentless echo of an unfinished piano tone‑poem that haunts her nights as passionately as it fuels her days. The sea‑kissed estate where she lives is steeped in the quiet intensity of an artist’s pursuit, a place where every cracked window and echoing hallway seems to pulse with the rhythm of a work that refuses to die. This fragile world is shadowed by an ever‑present sense of loss, a lingering melancholy that colors both the landscape and the music that drifts from the piano.

When tragedy strikes, the surviving sibling becomes the reluctant guardian of memory. Julia Trevelyan, now a reclusive figure, has turned her sister’s unfinished masterpiece into a solemn ritual, listening to its broadcast each year as if the notes might stitch together the torn fabric of her own guilt. Her life has folded into the quiet stewardship of a legacy she cannot fully claim, and the house itself has become both shrine and cage, its rooms echoing with the ghost of a melody that never found its ending.

Twenty‑five years after the fateful night, a stranger appears at the door—a young woman with no recollection of who she is, yet moving through the house with a familiarity that feels almost supernatural. Her striking resemblance to Olwen Trevelyan and the uncanny way she slips into the rhythm of the piano stir something deep within Julia, hinting at possibilities that blur the line between memory and rebirth. The presence of Nehemiah, a local faith‑healer who claims a second sight, adds a quiet, mystic layer to the atmosphere, suggesting that the past may be more porous than anyone is willing to admit. In this delicate dance of grief, art, and the unspoken, the house waits, the cliffs loom, and the unfinished notes linger, inviting the living to listen closely for what might still be heard.

Last Updated: December 05, 2025 at 09:50