Her Ivory Hand

   The abbey was dark and quiet, groaning with the sound of the thunderous strom slamming against it's side with great force. Rain beat against the windows, and thunder at the door. My hand trembling, I crept up the ominous staircase that I had climbed an unnumbered times before. Yet this seemed more frightening and terrible than all of those times.

   I reached the second floor hall, my own shadow sending my heart beating in a frenzy. 'Silly,' I shook my head, swallowing and creeping toward my wife's chamber door. She had gone out to London for a fortnight with her sister.  Now was my only chance...

   On edge, I swiftly pushed open the door. The light from my lonely candle poured into the dormant chamber, empty and neat. I glanced about hurriedly. I had seen the room before-with it's handsome decor and all the little trinkets, her little ivory figures from India and her luxious silky curtains. I did not linger long at these details, rushing to her desk.

   I sat the candle on it's top and took no care in pulling apart the drawers, digging through a series of useless letters to her sister, pieces of delicate jewelry-many of which I had bought her myself-and other things not of my interest. I reached the final drawer, reaching inside. I pushed aside a few more letters to her mother when I found what I sought.

    Her diary.

   Anxiously, I flipped through the tattered pages. Innocent garden tips, complaints about her handmaid, eager scribbles of her anticipation of her trip to London with her sister....groaning angrily I shook the book by it's leather bound side to see if anything of my searching would fall. I didn't expect anything.

   Several letters floated gently to the floor. Lightning clashed outside as I sat aside the diary carefully and bent over. Pensively, I picked them up with my hand, sitting the small pile on the desk. I pulled out the delicate stool and sat myself at it, beginning to unfold the first letter.

   The handwriting I did not recognize, and I gasped aloud as I read it quickly to myself, my heart dropping like a great, heavy boulder to my feet.

     My Sweet Matilda,

    My love for you is stronger than ever.....run away with me.....your husband shall not stand between us no longer.....kill him.

     I couldn't read the rest. "KILL HIM!" my mind screamed. My hands trembled as I lurched from the chair. I took the pile of letters and hurried to the window. Like a crazed man, I tossed open the glass panes, letting the wild wind whip at my hair and the rain sting my face.  Anxiously, I began to rip the parchment into pieces, tossing the little bits into the hungry win. No! It could not be true! Matila, my love would never kill me, would never be with another....!

    My heart stopped as I felt a hand on my shoulder. Breathless, I looked to see her delicate ivory hand resting on my broad shoulder, white like a ghost in the night.  I turned, attempting to back away, as I faced her large, beautiful face glowing like the moon, her thick black ringlets of hair invisible in the darkness. Her chocolate eyes were black and souless as she held a dagger over me, her ivory fingers clenched about it's hilt.

   The Reaper had come to me...in the form of my wife.

   (an attempt at a Poe-like piece)


~~~Next color is Amber~~~  

The End

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