The mistake

A tale of a fatal mistake

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1. The failed plan

 

The lady in white waits for me.

The day i met her, her eyes loving and azure, i fell in love. We met by chance, colliding into each other on the street. Instantly,  I warmed to her spirit, her optimism for life. The way her hair snaked over her slender shoulder like ribbons caressing her skin.

Then one day, as she smiled at me, and i did so too, we both realised our search for love was over. So we decided to meet up in an alleyway, secluded and secretive, debating what to do, where to go. Marriage? Eloping? Or simply pass the time. We had just began to talk, covering ourselvelves with the intermittent rainfall.

And then it happened.

A man, drunken, stumbled into the alleyway, carrying a bottle of alcohol. Filthy stuff, alcohol. Turns your mind into a gelatinous mess of misinterpretation and belligerent behaviour. As we found out. He pushed his way past me, dropping the bottle with a clang. And he went for her. He extended his flabby arms and fondled her, slipping his grubby hands over her face and neck, murmuring repulsive phrases. I asked him to stop, but he became violent, beginning to push me away, pushing her towards the wall, ripping her dress. I started forward, but then stopped. She was crying. He wasn't stopping. I was angry. So I picked up the bottle.

We heard the sirens later, as we hid in the dense foliage of Keenam Wood. Though the night was dark and sullen, the excitement was in the air. The locals prepared a mob, horrified by the sight of a popular philanthropist lying in an alleyway, his head bloodied and embedded with shards of glass. A local woman had seen us. So we ran.

The mob moved through the streets like a plague, searching for us. They brandished pitchforks and lugers an other horrific objects. She was scared. She didn't say it, but i could see. I could see her face, pallid and panicky, and i knew what i had to do.

She stumbled out towards the mob, screaming and crying. They saw a woman with a ripped dress, and instantly knew. They knew i had done it. But i was already gone, on a train, hurtling at great speeds away from there, fully intent on returning years later.

So here i am, walking towards her large manor house. Though only five years have passed, they have not been kind to me. My hair, which she often complimented, is now flecked with premature grey. Deep wrinkles line my face. I have aged. But soon, the years shall be turned back, for i know when i see her, our love will cover even the deepest wrinkle.

For safety, i sent a letter to her, detailing my return, as well as a forged letter to the town head, seemingly from the mayor of a nearby town, in which a description of my capture and execution was written. I have new documents, a new life, so we can begin our dream. A dream together.

The monolithic building comes into view, large, grey and topped with pointed rooves, spearing the sky like Satan's trident. I opn the door, an auburn beast, and step inside as it groans its displeasure at being disturbed.

Inside it is dark and grey. The stale stench of accumulated dust is thick in the air. Every piece of furniture is covered in a thick, grimy substance. I step forward, noticing the deathly quiet in the house. I climb the stairs, anticipation nestling in the pit of my stomach. And i reach the top. I push open the bedroom door. And see her. All in white. Lying on the bed.

Smiling, i step forward. And stop. Her chest neither rises nor falls. Her face is unmoving. No breath escapes her lips. On the bed, in her open hand, lies a vial, a drop of green liquid remaining. And a letter. From a mayor of a nearby town. Detailing my death.

And as it hits me, i hear a stirring from outside. I go to the window, wiping the grime away. And i see... and i see... a mob. One hundred strong. Carrying weapons, chanting my name, murder in their minds and retribution in their hearts.

And i realise. If she, my beloved, received the fraudulent letter... the mayor received the other.

And all i can do is sit with my beloved. And wait to die.

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