And then, he just faded away...

He would walk down those streets, daily. The streets where the lovelorn princesses stayed in dilapidated mansions which had dull paints and sooty chimneys.

Every day or almost every day, as if by design, his roving gaze would meet the eyes of a lovelorn girl. It would only be a trice before she got enamored with his hazel green, delicate, teary eyes which seemed to tell a hundred tales.

Then they, he and the princess, would fly, the girl close to his chest, sleeping like a kid, warm in his embrace.

After flying a while, they would land on some grassy meadows, where there was no other sound other than the chirping of the sparrows and the rustle of leaves in the gentle spring breeze.

Then he would bring forth his magic wand, and with a wave of it, create castles which would stand high, mighty and imposing on the grassy meadows. And then, he and the princess would venture inside the castle.

Inside the castle, they would be trapped in a time warp. Time would stand still outside as they discovered each other, inside the castle. He would merge into her and she into her, till they were nothing but one.

Then one fine day, when he felt he had enough of the princess, he would decide to leave.

Then, as soon as he left, a metamorphosis would start.

The grass on the meadows would go dead. A strong, chilly winter would set in, replacing the spring. The castle would be shorn off its aura and would resemble a deathly prison.

The princess, trapped inside the castle, would become a lonely prisoner waiting for her salvation at the gallows.

And he would fly away, deserting the meadow, to find a new princess, to explore new meadows where he would again create castles with a wave of his magic wand.

More castles, more love sessions, more prisoners. More immediate, cold winters. It went on, on and on.

One day he woke up, and realized with a shock, that he had lost his magic wand.His hazel eyes had lost their charm and had become pale.

He flew. His sudden ineptitude frightened him. He flew far and landed on a meadow which he had left long back. The castle was still there, looking less gloomy than when he had suddenly left it. With a relief, he realized that the chilly winter had given way to something which was less strong, more bearable.

He could make out strains of a song coming from inside the castle. She was singing. There was a refreshing freedom in the lines. A tone of relief as if celebrating newfound hope.

He moved with unsure steps towards the castle. But then, as he groped at his waist, and realized that he had lost the keys to the castle.

He stood helplessly for a while. Then in a stray wind which came that way, he just melted.

Vanished without a trace. As if he had never existed.

The strains of the song were still audible from the castle.