The Untold Story

Dizziness. A stream of blood drizzled from her forehead to the bottom of her cheek. She wiped it away habitually as she gazed at the broken image of herself. The nightmare ended tonight she thought as she rose gracefully as the flower itself from the crystal encrusted chair. She hated that chair. As she moved gracefully towards the tower window, she heard the identifiable steps of her spouse – and master. She moved quickly now as if she was within the grasp of Lucifer himself. Tying the knitting to the candlestick on the wall she reminisced about her blissful childhood before the brutal slaughtering of her family and abduction of herself led her to become a household slave and wife of her demon. She crawled out on the ledge and started descending down the slippery tower wall that the rain symbolically had wetted during the dark day. The door burst open and the duke raged toward the open window. Through the curtain of rain his wife was escaping before his sight. Struggling through incredulity and distress the duke quickly drew his rapier and slashed the improvised rope. A shrilling scream broke the silence as the duchess fell to the ground. The spring green grass gave a thump as she landed and then the silence was deafening again. Red liquid softened the earth as her white enthralling dress, golden hair and red spirit slowly overtook the canvas of the ground. As the duke’s eyes got used to the dark he watched the painting in disarray, and caught a glimpse of the shadow of a figure lurking near a winding tree.