Disclaimer: I don't Sailor Moon, or much of anything else.
Prologue
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Ashland was a tiny town, an almost insignificant plot of land lost to the glamour and twilight of the great cities the country had to offer. While it lacked in certain areas of fast paced thrills, it certainly made up for it in its old world charms. A few years prior to the millennium, the town reveled in its quaint splendor boasting of a charm that seemed to be lost with the loss of the South in the Civil War.
They could keep their jet set lives of New York couture and the flash of Hollywood stardom. The people of Ashland were damn proud to retain their strict moral values. It was a step back in time for any outsider entering their secluded world. As far as the townspeople were concerned, there was nothing past the Denson's property. Privacy was a coveted part of their lives.
No one outside would ever know of the secrets that lurked throughout the sleepy little town.
Social events marked the beginning and end of each season. There were always the big events to look forward to, the grandeur of the inner social circles congregating to display their opulence. Practically every decent god fearing patron of the town was invited. They were splendid parties of showing off debutants as their debut into high society in a sea of taffeta, chiffon, and lace scuffing against the polished wood floors. Gentlemen applied the greater refinement of chivalry. The soft drawl of an orchestra playing a slow waltz wafted through the air out of every door and window carried away by the warm winds of summer. And they all twirled around the ballroom overwhelmed by the sounds, smells, and sights melding into the one night of the year the rest of the town would talk about until it came again the following year.
For years to come, everyone would recall that warm summer night. That year, everyone especially looked forward to the coming out of a certain young lady well past the year for her coming out. She was an enigma to them all, an ethereal angel confounding their belief that her feet touched the very same ground they tread on.
Rumors spread rampantly as to why she had been hidden in the shadows for so long. Her other siblings were quite well known in their parts. Her younger brother was already being groomed to take over the land passed down generation to generation. He inherited a devilish beauty from his mother and father and the presence of his grandfather to invoke fear, respect, and admiration all at once. The youngest sister, barely into her teens was the little princess watched under careful eyes for the day the young flower would blossom. They said her beauty would one day outshine that of Helen of Troy.
But she was the puzzle yet to be solved. It was clear as to where and what each child was destined for, except her. She barely spent much time in their sleepy little town, instead traveling through Europe and buried away in a French boarding school where it was said her grandmother attended. Away in a foreign land, there were no prying eyes of nosy neighbors to keep constant vigil of her whereabouts. Even when she returned those summers, she still remained a mystery. She could be found amongst the youths of the innermost social circles. Other times she was mainly running wild amongst the fields of their property.
It was a well-known fact that it had been a great surprise for Charles Walker when his daughter came home one day from university on the arm of a strange man. He didn't understand her infatuation for the him at all. In some ways, he hoped it was a temporary arrangement. However, he was sorely mistaken to find the two had not returned to announce their relationship but of their elopement.
Ilene Walker had returned home the wife of a man her father knew nothing of by the name of Ken Mason.
It was an uproar at the time. The occurrence was unspeakable for everyone always thought Ilene would marry one of the good boys back at home after her adventures in the city. Word spread quickly, but was hushed under the influence of the family patriarch when the his daughter walked down the aisle a second time decked out in the most expensive and lavish gown ordered from Paris in a proper church wedding. While Charles had made amends with daughter not being able to bear the thought of losing his daughter forever, he never forgave the foreigner that stole his daughter's heart. Years later after the birth of each of their children many more arguments would rise between the two men. A brief entente was met after the birth of Ilene and Ken's first child.
She was the epitome of good breeding. Flawless porcelain skin, a dainty nose, hair of spun gold weaving down her back, and the curves of a woman modeled after the Greek goddesses. While she had inherited much of her mother's attributes, her father shone in little ways exquisitely complimenting her mother's feminine features. A stubborn pride and cunning wit able to recite the most vague passages of English poetry, a thirst for knowledge, the stately grace and demeanor, and the deep seeded ethics of life were all Ken. She was doubly blessed in intelligence and physical beauty, only amplified by her loving heart.
Serenity Mason never belonged anywhere else but in the land in which generations of her family toiled named for its precise vastness, Thousand Acres.
The long withheld resentment would come out years later after their marriage when the two men would explode into a fit of rage severing any walls of civility they had carefully erected. Only one month after Serenity's coming out, when the rest of the town slept peacefully in their beds, the lights of their manor would be glaring brightly. The sounds of glass smashing and angry, hurtful words crashed against the wall in a dull echo. No one would know the truth about exactly what they fought about. Neither would anyone hear the silent agreement cloaked in layers of secrecy and deceit.
The next morning they found her. For how long she slept without their knowledge, they would never know. She must have snuck out through her bedroom window some time in the middle of the night. Dressed in only a thin diaphanous, white nightgown, she probably dashed across the lawns without sparing a second thought to her state of dress. It was too obvious she would seek solace in the only place of her childhood that held any meaning to her short life. The old gnarled willow tree at the very most southern edge of the property was the only place she could find pure bliss locked in the memories held there. Only one other boy would know the significance of her reason to be there.
It was her sad folly to think that he would come to find her there. Perhaps it was a pathetic hopefulness that not everything in her life had been in vain, that maybe he was better than the others. Definitely she had put too much faith in him.
No, it was Andrew Stevens that found her in the hours of pre-dawn. The sun was slowly rising in the horizon as he drove down a back road for employees of Thousand Acres. The old willow tree, a familiar landmark was just up ahead a few feet away. He probably wouldn't have stopped had he not seen the flash of gold in the corner of his eye was he passed. Being a loyal and hard working employee, he stopped to inspect only to realize to his horror that perhaps he should not have stopped.
No a single person in Ashland would ever speak of a word of what had transpired at Thousand Acres. No one would dare speak of the horrid sin committed, shaming the well-respected family. All past gossip would die out about the family to leave them to their grief in hopes they could overcome such tragedy.
Andrew Stevens would be given the rest of that day off. Days and weeks later, he would be haunted by the image of her he witnessed. For years to come, eyes would follow him in pity to be so unlucky as to find her out there. The image still haunted him in his dreams, seeing his childhood friend for the very last time. He stood in front of that tree fighting to hold back the blood curdling cry.
Tied to a piece of old rope gently swaying to the wind, Serenity Mason's body hung lifeless.