Okay! This is my first story, and I hope that everyone will enjoy it! Be nice Please!
oneshot.
A Candle's Light
As I announce my last moments, and speak not lies, I wish you the best of luck. The pain grows more unbearable as every second ticks by; it seems as if fire has engulfed my body, yet I witness no flames. My time is near, and I wish my last wish upon your happiness, and that you, not suffer as I. Love her child, and protect her with your life, for she is your only light in the infinite darkness of alone.
I loved her --- oh how I loved her! She was my beautiful light, a light that gave off a radiant amber glow. My life, my soul, I lived every waking moment with her image set in my eyes. When I blinked I saw her, smiling the warmest of smiles, her eyes shining in the twilight of spring, a blue winter fire were those eyes, a scarlet blush creeping up upon her perfect porcelain skin. Her hair, of dusk, whisked like an elegant fire in the evening wind. She was content and happy with what we had. Even in poverty, she did not complain once. Together, I assume, we were the richest alive, for we had each other.
Even when we were denied the most holy of ceremonies in our church, we found kinder a heart in the Arch Bishop than in the local priest's. The occasion of our wedding was held at the First Library in the main study, where the stained glass filled the grand room with soft, warm colors of autumn. My wedding gift to her was her portrait. I had spent months on that painting, for I was an aspiring artist. My best man helped me to carve the frame from soft, beige oak. The frame was decorated with intricate flowers ranging from roses to poppies. Nothing was too great for her. Yet, something proved too great; something tragic.
The local doctors did not know, and performed many agonizing tests. With the steady climb in her fever, delirium, and thirst, what was to be thought? All that crossed my mind that my one and only light would be snuffed. It was then that I realized that I was falling, flailing till the end, towards the darkness. The next year passed in a haze. I could only remember fragments of time when ever asked a direct question requiring a specific opinionative answer. However, I had no opinion. There was no longer a reason to have one, for no eyes could see the torment and torture that I had been living every waking moment of my insignificant life. I was quickly thrust into a world of everlasting night. This night was both a blessing and a curse. It dulled the pain of my agony, but killed me all the same. A dead soul; as was such, a befitting title.
Time passed, days turned to weeks, weeks to months. It had been near a year when I finally awoke from my slumber. It was a chill evening, and frost was not uncommon to find where morning dew would be found. No soul sought me out. I, just another beggar, was a shadow on the wall. It was December; the Winter Masquerade was slowly creeping up upon the happy, jovial citizens. What elegant, sleek, gowns the women would dress, and men in fine Italian suits custom made, fine velvet and silk. She had planned to attend the fiasco. She had tailored her own snow white silken dress, and crocheting a matching sash, that doubled as a scarf. The scarf, she continued to stitch every stitch with her heart's love overflowing, adding to its peculiar beauty, till her last moments. The scarf then generated a most peculiar air, almost frightening, terrifying. My eyes must have told lies, for I saw the all too familiar menace, about the figures of many women. Unfinished by its proper suitor, flawlessly placed loosely around the neck, gracefully falling off the back of each shoulder, accentuating their perfectly rounded bones. Lovely; deadly; waiting to catch and strangle each woman, until their last gasp was silenced with the cold touch of an impending death. Yet, when I focused, there was no scarf around the elongated neck of a dark haired woman; instead, it was I, and only I, who wore the glimmering fabric around my neck.
Slowly, steadily, I arose from my hole of what one might call a "home," and proceeded to the nearest tavern. Almost instantaneously, the room grew silent. Eyes grew hard, noses crinkled, and movement ceased. All starred with disbelief, and disgust. Surely they wanted nothing better than to see me dangling in the gallows, or to witness me executed at the guillotine. What fools! That was when I first saw her. For what have my eyes deceived! How delusional must I be assuming that I could see her here again. Yet, it was not her. She had cold eyes of ice, and hair of slate. What monsters women have become. As I proceeded to gawk, my eyes fell steadily down, to the scarf she wore. Now complete and shimmering, it was as if it were placed there by the devil himself. I stared, and slowly crept away in utter shock and fear. The unmanned door, but a few feet away, seemed to be placed at the end of an endlessly long corridor. Not a sound was made; the only sound I heard was the beating of my own, traitorous heart. I was alive, if only for a brief moment in time, but life was found anew. What demon could have possessed me to think that my wife, my light, would rise from the grave to haunt me? An answer to that, I do not know, but for a brief instant, she too, was alive, if only in my corrupt mind. Hah! My mind has been corrupted? When was it left to corrupt?
I spent the next few days gathering my old tools from a seemingly small crack in the foundation of the church. What items I could salvage, I gathered, and what was lost beyond recognition, I left for the taking. I made haste, knowing that this might be my only chance to possibly deceive myself enough to reach back into society. How dreadful that had been. The priest was disrespectful, and condescending, announcing that I was insulting God by stepping foot into his house in my state. Quite pompous for a priest, but with a little 'persuasion,' I had many parchment papers, and a few canvases. Fortuitous was I, for now I could construct upon a failed life. My skill had not wavered with time long passed. I was still the artist I was long ago. I scrawled my name on too many pieces of parchment to remember, and completed each masterpiece with only a look of contentment. My works were like stories, each holding their own sad, somber tale of loss, treachery, deceit, and ultimate corruption. They were my children.
My children, my only connection to my heart, were soon auctioned off for high sums of money. Poverty was soon extinguished from my vocabulary, and I was on my way to a lovely evening of glittering jewels, music, beauty, and deceit. My attire was of a midnight silk, and a black silken mask, which tied around my head so that my hands would remain free. Leather shoes accompanied the ensemble, accenting the mask beautifully. Grabbing the last of my belongings, I hurried off to a winter wonderland, were I would find once again, a monstrous siren who brought about my most painful memories from the deepest recesses of my mind.
Anxious, I was, turning my head occasionally to find not a soul following me, but feeling the conspicuous presence all the same. I could not shake the feeling that someone was stalking my every movement, watching to see if my guard was ever down so that they could pounce. I would not let this wretch ruin my one and only night to once again deceive my already yearning heart. For no man, beast, or demon would erase the memory I deluded. For, I, a man of unconditional love, will never let her go again. The night air grew chill, and a cold breeze swept over the grounds on the road leading to the palazzo. My goal was simple. Find the strange woman, and eventually take her away from this foolish life of lies. Expose her as her true self, her true soul. It is then that I will finally find mild peace in this endless night. To see her light snuffed would be both a pleasure and a courtesy. She does not have the right to allow herself the image of the woman I love! She must pay for her sin!
Gradually, I strode to the front entrance, and was warmly welcomed. No eyes could penetrate my façade. It was brilliant. Every single pair of eyes, unguarded and filled with the glassy appearance of a drunkard. How lovely they looked! Unprepared for the events to come, announcing whom was the easiest prey was with their scarlet cheeks. I, however, was not anticipating easy prey. I was expecting a fight among a pack of raving wolves, but no wolves were present. Only pups would venture into a world without any knowledge of who the pup next to it was. Even pups were more aware of their surroundings, compared to a human that is. We are naïve creatures, we are, but ignorance is bliss. Such is the daily life of one of our species. I, like a pup, knew who was around me. The all too flamboyant men and their accompanied women were all too obvious. There was one I sought, for I too was a hunter, and I too was prey, who would win the chase? That is when my senses chose a path of betrayal. There, standing no more than a foot and a half to my left on the north side of the grand entry way was an angel. I saw her, and she was no illusion! What not have my eyes betrayed! There, in snow white silken linen, she stood. The silk draped luxuriously down her body accenting her every curve and flowing movement. A delicate silken scarf was loosely slung around her neck, giving it an elongated appearance. It dangled off her smooth shoulders, and contrasted perfectly with her dark, curled locks. Eyes of mine found their way to the hollow of her neck, to their surprise found a single stone of bloodlike color dangling from a chain of silver. I felt, only for a brief moment, excitement.
"Excuse me madam, would you kindly tell me the name of one such as yourself?" I questioned; my voice soft velvet to her ears.
Blankly staring at me with intense eyes of ice, soon melting into a calm stream, "I would be honored, however, is it not customary for a gentleman to introduce himself before asking the name of a lady?" Her eyes searching for something familiar, but coming up empty handed.
"Forgive me," I said, giving her an appealing smile. "My name is Gaston Francesco Carlisle of the house of Pasquinel." I took her hand and pressed my cold lips to her unguarded ring finger. She tensed, but then relaxed. A light rosy hue had made itself known in her guard's absence.
"That is why you are so familiar. I could not place you with your strange pale hair and obsidian eyes alone. The house of Delia; it has been many years since I have last heard that name." Her eyes darkened slightly, for she was now lost in thought. She quickly regained her composure and looked me the eyes; she was now guarding her emotions. "My name is Victoria Laurien Catharina of the house of Bettencourt."
"Will you allow me the privilege of this dance?" I inquired, viewing the couples to our immediate right.
"Only if you will allow me the privilege of being your company for tonight," she teased. Foolish it was of her to think I would take that request lightly.
The orchestra's music was melodic and harmonious. Its notes flowed into another with the greatest of ease. Simply lovely, peaceful, and beautiful it was. Through the night, her appearance began to change. Her cheeks grew more flushed, dark puffy circles beneath icy eyes grew more pronounced with each passing moment, her hands grew clammy, and she grew very cold, occasionally shivering. The nightmare was occurring once more in my wake. I knew not what to do. If she were to attend a hospital visit, they would surely keep her until her last breath. If I did not take her immediately she would leave this Earth even sooner. What was I to do? I would let her enjoy herself once more before it was her time.
We leisurely strode to the balcony to view the starry night sky. A crescent moon was showing. Death's moon, I had seen it once before, the day I died. I knew from that moment that she would, if she were lucky, see the sunrise, but knew that would not be likely. I lead her to the ledge, my arm around her waist, giving her comfort. The sight she saw next was breath taking. We stood above a vast garden with flowers of many breeds. Some were even not of what I knew the names of. There was a small mound with a sundial, fully cloaked in moonlight. Around it was a petite moat leading downhill through the flower beds. She gently laid her head on my chest, placing her ear close to my heart.
"You, whom I know nothing of, have captured my heart," she said in a hushed whisper, "How can I ever know that you are the one to hold it?"
"You don't," I replied, "Even so, I will accept it."
She looked up into my eyes still searching, something that would give her any reason to doubt my intentions. The intentions I gave her to make her happy. She found none, and placed her ear, once again to my heart. I, the beggar she had scowled so disgustfully at, was now the one she was professing her love to. I glanced at the crescent moon once more, cursing it for eternity. That was when I let my guard down, I allowed hope to enter my heart. 'Perhaps,' I thought, 'the moon is not meant for her.' What a fool I was to let emotions rule my actions. This however, was when my mind was to have its fun, for no human in their right mind would have experienced what I had.
I began to hear a voice. A voice I could never forget. Suddenly, the faint smell of peaches made itself known to me as well.
Oh Gusto! What a man of honor you are! Even I did not expect this from you
A chill crept down the back of my neck; I could feel the hairs standing on end. I whipped my head around quickly, to see not a soul. I forgot about Victoria, and turned fully to face the way which we had come. She touched my shoulder, and I jumped, yet I kept enough of my wits not to utter a public cry.
"Gusto, what is the matter?" she innocently asked.
I looked at her as if she were some demon, come to collect my soul. "S-s-stay away! D-d-do not come any c-cl-closer!"
I turned away from her and hastily made my way to the door, paying no mind to the patrons whom I disturbed. I could still hear here her cry 'Wait!' in the distance. Picking up speed I found the palazzo's main entrance, and exited the grand house of hopes, dreams, and light. I was not worthy of that light. I would never again be accepted into the radiant hearts of others, for I knew the truth. Their hearts would only welcome one with wealth, and I knew how quickly their hearts will close to one who does not fill their shallow expectations. I was a human who was thrust into the dark, never again to escape.
How right you are! You could never be accepted again into the light. Join me, once again; in the darkness.
"I will never go back!" I called out into the night, not minding who heard. What mattered was that she heard. Angeline Marie Francine of the house of Denali married into the house of Pasquinel. She was my light in the darkness, my Angeline.
I hastily made my way to my newly acquired home, and down into the wine cellar where I made my decent. Looking through the newly acquired alcohol, I chose the finest wine I had recently purchased. Even if it did not have much age, wine was wine. The slow climb to the top of the narrow stairs was quite agonizing. I heard each agonizing creak in the wooden steps. I wondered if the wrought flesh of wood would hold the additional weight when placing one foot in front of the other. It thrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before. So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I kept repeating "If I die now, I die a pure soul. The devil cannot have my soul, for it does not belong to him. It belongs to my light. My light which led me out of the darkness and out of the darkness I shall stay!"
Once a candle's light greeted my arrival, I closed the stair well's door, and made my way into the study. I had five bottles of wine, and myself to share them with. I grew intoxicated with the sweet smell of grapes, and, when finished, I could no longer distinguish shapes. I only saw color. How appealing to one's sight. It reminded me of my wedding day in the First Library; the stained glass had a similar effect. That day, however, the colors were more crisp, and bright. Last night, they were only a jumble. I slept not that night, to this morning. The sunrise from the study's window is most extravagant.
My child; when you receive this letter, please, let no eyes other than your own view its contents. Take a match, light a fire in a secluded area, and burn this letter, along with my wife's scarf. I have never seen so much misfortune with only a piece of fabric. Tell me one thing though; have my eyes ever told truth? I would think not. My senses are old, but I am surprisingly young both in heart and in body. I am only thirty-nine! I look as if I am twenty-nine! How fortuitous I am. The fire has intensified, I know I am being called by the bowels of hell to enter at my leisure, but before I burn forever, I would like to see one last thing. To see her standing tall and proud, her hair like dusk, and with eyes of blue winter, my light. Wearing her silken dress, and her scarf, now complete, fluttering in the divine wind, her hair whisking like an elegant fire. She would be warmly smiling at me, starring with those infinite, loving eyes, the sweet smell of her breath, of peaches. The twilight of spring giving her an air of unparalleled beauty; her porcelain skin, shining like rainbows were bouncing off every pore. Perfect.