In a society devastated recently by bloodshed and societal torture, be it a miracle or the breath of God that humanity still lived, the world was coughing out its last. And beyond the seas and volcanoes dotting the cracked marble-of-a-planet, the grey jungles and the orange rolling clouds lay a small modest settlement, reminiscent of Human civilisation. The Earth did not care for this village like it may have used to, so care and faith had naturally been abandoned by the people too. This life was as plain a canvas a society could be.

.

Once, a very long while ago, six characters played out their lives in a great act of festivity, one of which was a noblewoman called Cat. Cat had been betrothed to the love of her life, Shawn, Earl of Larquade, and the descendant of a rich family, previously in partnership with the Cat family, now after the Battle of Kingdoms, in complete tatters. Tasked with the reproduction of his royal bloodline by his dying father, whose last breath bound him to a hellish curse , Cat rather, Shawn had set the promise concrete. It had been nearly 24 months since the betrothal became nuptial confinement for Shawn, and considering his Father risked it all for the very reason of copulation, the fact that the pair were childless spoke clearly for itself. In reality, the chemistry of the couple was really to blame for the lack of active biology, and Shawn seeing the direity of the situation, came up with a horrid idea.

Shawn began to formulate a plan. The couple were still nobles after all, and so had a whole parade of servantry at their disposal. Cat and he shared a right hand man, very close to the pair, almost a bridge between heaven and hell. His name was Karl, a respectful young lad who took no cash as payment, but sacks and sacks of pennies. His back was always straight, and he spoke never out of turn, nor did he ever get smashed, copulate in brothels, or as a matter of fact, ever leave the mansion he was designated to watch over. Every morning he came into their bedroom with a jargon of bubbling porridge and even from time to time, carried Cat to the toilet-, and now, he was going to play a key part in Shawn's sly escape plan.

That morning, everything went normally for a few hours: Karl's robust shadow drew the curtains and threw a wisp of thick morning sunshine upon the couple. He set a bowl of steaming porridge in each's reach, but one was not really porridge. He nudged the imposter porridge slowly towards Shawn. He clucked the other next Cat. In reality, Shawn was about to drink some horse piss.

Now that does sound extravagant doesn't it, but not if one own's a horse, as did they, like any rich noble household. Uncle Ball, the horse constantly romping in the shed, could produce nearly 3 gallons of piss on rainy days, so Karl encountered no difficulty obtaining a petite vial of the substance. He sneaked it into the vast kitchen, and behind Aunt Betty the cook's back, emptied horse piss in the porridge of one. Now porridge is very good for you, they say it contains fibres, which eases the act of pooping. Horse piss, on the other hand, is less so. They say whatever the horse eats will be what the vile vial contained, in this case, at best fish eyeballs, at worst horse eyeballs- no-one really knew or paid attention to Uncle Ball's idiosyncrasies. But it was specific that in the plan, this liquid was chosen, it was because, though aesthetically fatal, would not at all deal a mortal wound.

Chug, chug, chug…

Shawn let loose a primal burp, before hunching over, clutching the bed rail. He vomited out some liquid horse eyeball, to the growing alarm of Cat, his wife. Stumbling and fumbling, Shawn scratched blindly at the exit of his chamber, crawling on all fours to the bathroom, where he locked himself for seemingly eternity in Cat's eyes. That fateful morning where it all started, cries, tears and farts rang crystal clear across the very foundations of that building. Those sounds heartlessly struck the noble eardrum of Cat's, which were translated into electro-neuron messages, rattling through her whole body, and settling in her heart as an acidic liquid fear. Karl was nowhere to be seen.

Aarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhh, uuuuuuuuunngg ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

Now Shawn was known as a clever man, but his plan, really was, quite simple. He would fake his death, and escape and ride the winds as far away from Cat as he could.

Karl was with Shawn in fact, who was frantically screaming and panting- and farting. After all, the man was balancing freedom herself in this act of devilry. Cat whimpered quietly in the adjacent room. Karl deftly dusted Shawn's face with a thin layer of flour.

"Do you need my help, love? Shall I get the keys?" Cat asked as she chomped down on her fingernails.

"No, no, no! I am fin-bleuggh-e don't worry!" He coughed out.

Seconds later, though, he died. Karl tiptoed out downstairs to make cheap talk with Aunt Betty, carefully pushing the door so that it would slam in exactly five seconds, which it did.

"SHAWN!" Cat gasped, a mortal choke escaping her soul. She checked his pulse- null. She opened each eyelid, before her own were clogged full of tears. Cat couldn't take it anymore and quickly stumbled over to the balcony.

Cat took a sharp breath and exhaled smoothly. And crossing her arms in an act of self-determination and love, she plunged to her death, 50 feet below.

AN: It felt almost like yesterday that I joined this community. Now we're nearly at 100 stories. This Fanfiction community is truly something special to me, and I have special pride in this story, it being my last before we pass our monumental milestone, and so I thought I'd pass my gratitude to all those who have stayed with us for all these years and supported us, and put faith in us. I'd like to give a toast to every single view I have on my account, may it be accidental, a hater, or a follower. My gratitude is monumental. And as life drags on, time tends to consume itself. Youthful fingers become veterans. Be it that I distance myself from writing even a little, I can't stress my gratitude for this opportunity to write because this is truly, truly, unique. I don't normally write these ANs, I don;t normally write ANs, but this occasion warranted one. Peace. :]